


A Darker Shade of Pale.

by Josey (cestus)



Series: Darker World [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, M/M, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 07:19:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 78,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cestus/pseuds/Josey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2000 years ago, Yamamoto Genryusai's proposal to establish the Shinigami Academy was refused. Without its cohesive influence, a very different Gotei 13 has thrived, one based around sprawling political alliances, control of resources, and the apprentice/master bonds of pre-Shogunate samurai.</p><p>When Isshin, traitorous ex-captain and renegade head of the noble Shiba clan, is discovered hiding in the Living World, plans are made to bring him to justice. But what of his children? Faced with beings powerful beyond his imagining and at the whim of factional interests he doesn't understand, is there anything Kurosaki Ichigo can do to protect his family or, for that matter, even himself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Goodbye Salad Days

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [2012 Kink Big Bang](http://kink-bigbang.livejournal.com/) Many thanks to everyone who held my hand while I wrote this, especially my wonderful missus, who played sounding board for all my weird and wonderful ideas, and [junko](http://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/works) who betaed magnificently and waved pom-poms like a pro just when they were needed. I couldn't have done it without you.

Pure luck identified the traitor. An unseated member of the 13th on a routine patrol ran into a boy with high spiritual pressure and the team sent to investigate immediately raised the alarm. After more than half a century the Shiba renegade was found.

As the only two noble clans currently boasting captains, it was left to the Kuchiki and the Shihōin to bring him in. Byakuya assembled a select force suitable for such a mission. Yoruichi sent only her lover and her third seat. It was an insult Byakuya would address in his own way at the right time. For now he had other concerns. Since there were human offspring involved, this had to be handled with care. Loose ends led to questions and Central 46 did not like questions.

In the end, it was all rather disappointingly low key. The shinigami arrived in the depths of the night expecting a high level confrontation and set up an exclusion barrier. What they found was a man with not even half the power he had as a captain. He was taken down in short order and the rank and file averted their eyes as the traitor was hustled out, Soifon the only escort required.

That just left the children. When Byakuya found them, Urahara was already sniffing around. He had the three of them on their knees on the living-room floor, trapped by kidō, and was muttering to himself as he twiddled the dials on one of his infernal machines. He hardly acknowledged Byakuya's presence and Renji had to clear his throat pointedly before the man turned a clever eye towards them.

"Ah, Kuchiki-taichō," he murmured, dipping obsequious little bows as he backed away from Byakuya's path. "Just trying to ascertain the level of threat. Shinigami and Quincy mixed, you know. The varying levels of power. Interesting, so very interesting."

Byakuya repressed a shudder. Urahara may claim the high ground over Aizen and Mayuri but he was no better in his habits. All three would tear the wings off a butterfly in the name of science.

"The 13th will take them," he told Urahara. They were the ones to make the original discovery, so in theory they had first claim on any bounty. It was a call that wouldn't stand in the long term, but would suffice for the moment.

Urahara twisted under the assertion, protesting the importance of his own humble interests and honestly Byakuya didn't care. "Take it up with your mistress if you so wish," he announced, turning his back on the third seat, implicitly dismissing him. He heard a sputter of protest, cut-off by the heavy thud of Renji planting Zabimaru in the wooden floor. A moment later they were alone and Byakuya could focus his attention on the children. Though in one case, at least, that was very much a misnomer.

The younger two were easy to deal with. Girls, on the cusp of early womanhood. One hung unconscious in her bonds and exuded less power than most commoners in Rukongai. Byakuya dismissed her. If necessary she could be left behind. The other, dark-haired and angry-eyed, had power inherited from her father. She was too dangerous to leave in the living world. Byakuya stepped forward, drawing Senbonzakura preparatory to severing her soul chain, only to find himself the target of a determined, if hobbled, charge by the eldest.

This was the one Byakuya hesitated to call a child; he was a young man with a shock of startlingly coloured hair, of an age to be enlisted and dressed in dark blue clothing with some undecipherable script emblazoned on the front. He struggled across the floor in an admirable, if rather ill-informed, effort to put himself between Byakuya's blade and his sister.

Byakuya side-stepped him easily and, with a flick of his finger, reinforced the kidō holding him down. The boy collapsed face-first on the carpet still spitting curses in Byakuya's direction. The reiatsu pouring from him proved he too would have to be severed.

"Taichō?" Renji said from the doorway. "You gonna split 'em up?"

Yes, that would be painful for his lieutenant. However these children would not suffer a commoner's fate if it lay within Byakuya's power to prevent it. Whatever name their father may claim for himself now, they were still Shiba by blood.

"I am thinking perhaps not," he said and turned his attention back to the girl with low levels of reiryoku. In the human world she was nothing; in Soul Society however she had the potential to be quite valuable. With the right marriages, she and her sister could be used to reinvigorate a clan left gutted by Isshin's betrayal and Kaien's self-immolation.

And the boy?

"Fucker! Leave them alone! You want a fight then fucking well face me, you asshole coward ghost!"

Well, he certainly had spirit.

Byakuya cast an amused glance back at Renji, who shrugged. Apparently he hadn't a clue how to proceed either. The vast majority of humans, when confronted by shinigami were too terrified to do anything but obey. There was no hint of obedience here. But perhaps a semblance of it could be enforced.

"You care for your sisters, I see," Byakuya stated, "as is right and proper in an older brother. Tell me, Shiba, how far are you willing to go for them?" The beginnings of an idea were starting to form. He had thought to place the boy with his sisters but it was just possible that he could provide the solution to a problem that had been brewing since Renji reached bankai.

He took a closer look. Beyond the fierce expression and the baggy clothing, the boy was not unattractive and appeared to be well formed. He was certainly strong. Yes, this could work.

"My name is Kurosaki," the boy spat, "Kurosaki Ichigo. I dunno who the fuck this Shiba guy is you keep going on-"

"Shiba is the name of your father's clan. The one he betrayed when he turned against Soul Society," Byakuya interjected. He was prepared to negotiate here but he would not be brow-beaten. "Thus it is also your name. I am however willing to call you Ichigo. Will this be sufficient compromise?"

Instead of an answer, he got a glower; one that was horribly reminiscent of Kaien. There could be no mistake as to this one's paternity.

"Where've you taken dad?" Ichigo growled.

"To Soul Society," Byakuya replied and, seeing little point in concealing the facts, added, "Your father is a convicted criminal sentenced to be interned for a thousand years in the great underground prison."

A choked off cry came from the conscious girl. The boy merely scowled more harshly. It was an unfortunate expression and one of which he must be broken at the first opportunity, Byakuya resolved.

He also recognized that the conversation was going nowhere. It was time to stop talking and start acting.

#

The kids probably didn't even see the sword that killed them, Renji thought as Kuchiki-taichō sheathed Senbonzakura and stepped away from the three newly severed souls now sprawling semi-conscious at his feet.

Renji hurried forwards, ready to grab the two littlest until taichō stopped him, saying, "No, the younger ones will come with me as previously planned. Complete our affairs here as quickly as you can and remove the boy to the manor. Brief him on what to expect. I will meet the both of you later in my private rooms." He grabbed the two girls, one under each arm and strode from the room in a swirl of cherry-scented silk.

"Taichō," Renji bowed after him and, in passing, flicked another kidō at the ginge who'd struggled to his feet yelling about saving his sisters. He nose-planted immediately.

The manor, eh, and taichō's private rooms. Renji gave the kid a narrow look then left him to it, calling in the third seat to organise the clean up. The bodies had to be relocated back to bed and all evidence of anything out of the ordinary destroyed. Setting a fire seemed the obvious thing to do. He'd spotted some kind of workshop in the back so an accident there would fit the bill nicely.

By the time Renji got back to the kid, he'd crawled halfway to the door and his face was beet-red. Interestingly his reiatsu was already rising and Renji took a second to realise just how strong he was going to be. Hellishly; perhaps even stronger than him.

Was that why Kuchiki-taichō wanted him? It'd make sense. He'd already promised Renji a shot at a captaincy as soon as they could work out which one might be vulnerable. Renji fancied his chances at the 9th. Muguruma might be strong but that run in with Aizen did something to him. Plus his fukutaichō was a flake and if he timed it right, he could take her out of the picture leaving himself a clear run at her boss.

Not that he'd try it without Kuchiki-taichō's say so. He was no Kaien, stupid freaking fool. All he did was leave his captain without anyone to watch his back. Ukitake had to pull in favours from the 4th to get someone halfway competent to replace him.

"What'd you say your name was again?" he asked the kid who was almost close enough now to gnaw on Renji's toes and, going by his expression, just might try it. Renji poked him with his foot, rolling him onto his back, which couldn't be comfy with that amount of kidō wrapped round him. He had to arch his hips to keep the pressure off his arms, a position that brought a smirk to Renji’s face. 

The kid glared up at him. Those were good eyes, Renji mused. Bright and full of emotion. Most of the shinigami Renji knew were kinda cold. Taichō was unusual that way and even he didn't show that side to just anyone. Renji was privileged.

"Where's that asshole taking my sisters," was the only reply he got in answer to his, perfectly polite, enquiry.

"That ‘asshole’,” Renji replied pointedly, “is Captain Kuchiki. And probably the 13th."

The kid slumped onto his side, glower gone. He looked knackered, his face open and vulnerable, almost pretty. Renji wanted to eat him up. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," the kid was saying, "but just tell me no-ones gonna... I don't know, molest them or something?"

"Not over there. They might be loony-toons but Kira's an okay kind of a guy." Renji hunkered down next to him. If this one was gonna be taichō's next protégée, he supposed he'd better make nice. "So you gonna tell me your name, or what?"

Eyes the colour of sweet dark honey rolled in his direction and a pink tongue flashed out to wet dry lips. "Ichigo," the kid said, "Kurosaki Ichigo."

"Glad to make your acquaintance," Renji replied with a nod, remembering his manners. "Abarai Renji, lieutenant of the 6th division."

"Of what?" the kid asked and when Renji didn't jump all over the answer, added with increasing volume, "6th division of what? 13th of what? I dunno who the fuck you guys even are! You just broke in here in the middle of the fucking night, dragged my dad off and then-" his gaze flicked over to where his body had been, "killed me and my sisters and now- What the fuck is going on?"

That last came out in a rushing yell. Renji could sympathise. It might be years ago now but he still remembered the night the shinigami came to Inuzuri hunting down kids with decent levels of reiryoku. He remembered being terrified and hiding from them, doors being smashed down and people screaming and fighting. He remembered being grabbed and hauled away from the only family he'd ever known and carted off to the camp. He hadn't known what was going on then and it had freaked him out. He guessed Ichigo must be feeling much the same way now.

"We’re the 6th division of the Gotei 13," he offered. "That’s the shinigami army of Soul Society, which is where souls go after they die."

Ichigo blinked at him. "You're shinigami?"

"Yeah, and so's your dad. So I guess that makes you half-shinigami too." And half-Quincy but Renji hadn't a clue what one of those was, so he didn't mention it.

The glower was back though this time it was more confused than angry. "The old man's dead?"

"Eh, more like was never alive in the first place. He's a Shiba." When Renji realized that probably wasn't going to help, he added, "That's one of the noble clans, like the Kuchiki's; taichō's family. It means your dad didn't have to die to get into Soul Society, he was born there."

Ichigo stared at him like he'd gone insane. "My old man was born dead," he said in a flat voice.

Renji chuckled nervously and scratched his cheek. He hated it when things got technical. "I know it sounds nuts, but that's how it works, okay. They're new souls or something. I dunno. It's complicated and it's not like anyone's jumping up and down to teach you about shit like that."

The kid turned away and Renji realised he was staring at a picture on the far wall. It was of a pretty woman with hair almost the same colour as Ichigo's. His mother? That would make her the Quincy. Huh. She looked like an ordinary human.

He was about to ask Ichigo if he was gonna do something stupid if Renji removed the kidō, when the kid said, "And me? What's at the manor?"

Apparently he was awake enough to hear that. "That's Kuchiki-taichō's home," Renji explained. "I think he wants you to work for him, like me. He does that, picks promising kids and trains them up himself. Most division captains do." Having said that, if Ichigo was gonna be groomed for Renji's spot, his training was gonna be a bit different from the rank and files'.

"That..." Ichigo wrinkled his nose, "doesn't sound too bad actually, you know, considering he's the _guy who killed me_." That came out with a crack of anger. Yeah, kid was still pissed.

"He had to," Renji explained. "Cause of your dad, you've got high spiritual pressure and it's attracting hollows and starting to affect the folks around you."

"Hollows?" Ichigo was staring at him all confused again because of course he didn't even know that much.

Renji sighed. He'd had enough of squatting on some living-room floor having a non-conversation with someone who knew shit about nothing. "Tell ya what," he suggested, "Let's save the debrief for when we get to the manor. Now I'm gonna loosen this kidō. You do anything dumb and I'll knock your block off, deal?"

#

As he followed the shinigami around his own home like a dog on a leash, Ichigo was starting to think his brain might be broken. A huge part of him was just not prepared to accept this. He couldn't be dead; he was still breathing, still walking, still talking. And yet he'd seen his body. Seen them drag it out of the room and up the stairs. Consequently he was swinging wildly between a rational faith that he was going to wake up any second and a gut level understanding that this was real, there was no going back.

They stopped outside Ichigo's bedroom and, while Abarai talked to this little dot of a woman who he called Hisana, Ichigo studied the tag that'd been hanging on his door for forever and felt like crying. 

But he couldn't. He couldn't cry and he couldn't give up like some loser. He might be dead, but he still had responsibilities and his mum would never forgive him if he let anything happen to Karin and Yuzu, so he shoved the fear deeper inside, grit his teeth and asked, "Any chance I can grab a couple of things?"

Abarai and the woman stopped talking to look at him. The woman's eyes were huge and violet blue, and cold, so cold. The shinigami were human shaped but Ichigo could never mistake them for human. The only ones who showed anything like emotion were Abarai and the guy who killed them, Kuchiki. All the others looked at Ichigo like he was some kind of bug. He wanted to yell at them that he was a person, that he deserved better, but he had a sneaky feeling they wouldn't hear him if he did.

He still had his hands bound behind him by whatever magic these guys used, so he couldn't open the door himself. He jerked his chin at his bedroom. "In there," he said.

Abarai's eyes flicked to the room and back to him then he sighed heavily. "Okay, just no funny business, all right," and the bonds around Ichigo's wrists vanished. His arms fell to his sides and he reflexively rubbed his wrists. When Abarai carried on with what he was doing, Ichigo took it as tacit consent to move, so he opened his bedroom door and slipped inside.

It was dark. He couldn't see much but he didn't need to. Didn't want to. He knew what was in the bed and he had no desire to see it again.

Anyway he knew what he was here for and it was in the bottom of his closet in a box. His dad gave it to him years ago. It wasn't much, just a stupid charm, but dad had said that it belonged to mum and that she'd made it for protection. If Ichigo was ever going to need it, then now was the time.

He dug for it, tossing aside old manga and several pairs of shoes along the way, and found it nestled in the corner. He was scooping it up when his fingers tangled with something else, something metallic; Chad's coin. Ichigo picked them both up, and dangled the coin by its chain so it reflected the dim light from the window. If this Soul Society place was where people went after they died, maybe he'd run into Chad? That'd be cool, he decided. He missed the big guy and with Chad at his back, maybe he could get Karin and Yuzu back. Free his dad.

For the first time since the blade pierced his soul, Ichigo felt hope swell in his chest. Maybe even a plan.

He managed to grab Karin's football and the stuffed lion he gave Yuzu a couple of years ago and then Abarai yelled that they're leaving.

He was still in denial – wondering where the cameras were, and his dad with the party hats and the 'surprise!face' – as they gathered in the road outside the clinic and Abarai stuck his sword into nothing and conjured a gate out of thin air. When flames started to lick the roof of Kurosaki Funeral Services and he was shoved towards the gate, he started to think that maybe the prank was getting a bit out of hand. But it wasn't until he stepped into darkness, leaving behind the only world he'd ever known, that Ichigo actually started to believe that this might be real.

*

The heat hit him like a smack in the face as, a moment later, they emerged into bright sunlight and gardens that'd look right at home in the touristy areas of Kyoto.

"I guess we'd better drop this lot off first," Abarai muttered glumly. Ichigo assumed he was talking about the other shinigami who'd come with them through the gate which, to Ichigo's bemusement, was guarded on this side by a couple of guys in ninja costume.

"I'll handle that, sir," Hisana said with a stiff bow. She shot a glance at Ichigo. "From what taichō said, it might be wise to keep this one out of the Seireitei proper."

"Good point," Abarai agreed, "Well, if you don't mind, back to base and reports by sun-up?" He waved a hand at the gang of shinigami loitering close enough to eavesdrop.

"Not at all, sir. We'll see you tomorrow morning at division HQ." With a final bow, she turned to the rest and snapped, "You heard the fukutaichō. Move it, move it!" Her voice might not be loud but she sounded convincing, Ichigo thought as he watched them all trot obediently off up the path.

Abarai huffed a laugh and shook his head as he turned away. "Reckon she's after coming with me," he said conversationally as he started up a wide stone walkway that led in a completely different direction. "Wouldn't mind her, I guess, she's good at what she does but I dunno, there's something about her. Her and her sister." He shuddered. "Like two creepy peas in a pod." 

Ichigo followed silently, intent on every move Abarai made. With the rest of the shinigami gone, he was alone with the guy for the first time and he took the opportunity to really look at him. Hair an even stupider colour than his own in a thick braid almost down to his waist, and tats on his face and neck and chest, made him look like a yakuza at first glance, and he carried himself well enough to pass too. Plus he was big. Muscled. Still way smaller than Chad though, Ichigo thought, narrowing his eyes as he measured stride-length and gait, and he used to be able to take Chad in a spar. This could be an chance to get away.

And go where? That was the problem. Ichigo turned his attention to his surroundings. The gardens stretched off in every direction with no end in sight. If he ran he'd probably end up running straight into the guards or something dumb like that. "Where are we anyhow?" he asked in the hopes of getting a helpful answer.

"Eh?" Abarai said glancing back at him and then around at the trees, grass and flower beds. "Oh, this is the Kuchiki manor." He stabbed a thumb back over his shoulder in the direction they'd come from. "Being as how it was family business, we used the private senkaimon here and..." His voice trailed off. "Yeah, okay, that's not gonna help is it. Lemme give ya the run down as we walk. Better to know what's what anyhow. Might stop you from sticking your foot in it every other step."

And so, as they made their way past stands of strictly trimmed evergreens and discrete pagodas and deep ponds full of ghosting pale shapes, Abarai continued the explanation he'd started back in Ichigo's living-room. He talked about the Gotei 13 and hollows and pluses and how shinigami cleansed them and sent them to Soul Society. About Seireitei, which was where they were, and Rukongai, which was where Abarai came from originally and sounded like a dump. And then he started on about noble families and something called Central 46, which seemed to be the government, and someone called the Soul King, and just when Ichigo'd given up the will to live, he finally got onto something useful.

"The Shihōin have the 2nd, the Kuchiki the 6th and the Shiba, that's your lot, always used to hold the 3rd. Course there's none of 'em up for it now, so it's gone to that creep Ichimaru."

"Divisions are passed down through families?" Ichigo interrupted.

Hope got its second wind when Abarai replied, "Yeah, I guess. 6th belongs to the Kuchiki, always has. The last captain was Kuchiki Koga, taichō's uncle, and the one before that was Kuchiki Ginrei, his grandfather, so yeah, handed down."

"And you're what," Ichigo asked, "Some kind of glorified bodyguard?"

"I'm a fukutaichō, so..." Abarai barked a laugh and counted on his fingers, "Watching the captain's back, making his tea, filing his paperwork." He glanced at Ichigo. "Training his newbies. All in a day's work for a lieutenant." His eyes softened but filled with resolve. "I do what taichō tells me. He's not perfect but compared to most of the others, he's a good guy. You should give him a chance."

Ichigo hardly heard him. If Kuchiki needed Abarai as a bodyguard then his theory was sound; in Soul Society 'captain' was an hereditary title like 'prince'. Ichigo's pulse raced in his ears. There was still the magic. Kuchiki'd proven good at that and so had Abarai, but if he could catch them unawares, maybe he could get past that, take them both out before they had a chance to use it on him.

They turned a corner and a vast complex of buildings was suddenly visible through the trees. Even though it looked deserted, somehow Ichigo knew it was bustling with shinigami. They were emitting some form of energy, he realised. He'd been sensing it on and off since he died, but here in Soul Society, it was making those who had it stand out like flickering LEDs.

Did Kuchiki do that? Ichigo didn't remember. He shot a glance at Abarai. The guy had a bit of power but not as much as the ninjas by the gate. Despite the tattoos and the attitude, Abarai described his job as more personal assistant than bodyguard, so that made sense; it was probably something their top fighters had more than anyone else.

Ichigo's heart sank. If he was going to a house full of people with that kind of power, it wouldn't matter if he took out Abarai and his captain, he'd be defeated by the guards.

"Taichō's private rooms are down here," Abarai said gesturing to a path leading off to the left. "He's got a separate complex. Says it stops his aunties sticking their noses in where they're not wanted. Can't say I've ever noticed it working. Load of busybody butterflies they are."

This new path wound back into the trees, away from the house and the guards and all the people with that glowing flickering power, and Ichigo was starting to get emotional whiplash from having his hopes alternately dashed and realised. Alone with Abarai and Kuchiki he was as good as free, he was sure of it.

Now if he could just find out where Karin and Yuzu were, maybe he could find them after he'd taken down Abarai and his captain and then do a runner. Somewhere they couldn't track him easily like that Rukongai place, Abarai mentioned. It sounded rough but Ichigo got the impression there weren't many shinigami there. He didn't know what they'd do then, but there had to be something. He had to believe that or what was the point in anything.

Biting back incipient hysteria, he asked as innocently as he could muster, "I wonder what Karin and Yuzu are doing?"

"Probably getting fed candy by Ukitake-taichō," Abarai replied with a chuckle. "Now he's another nice guy, so long as you catch him on a good day. Connections with your family too. Lemme see, your dad was brother to Kaien's great grandfather, so that makes Kūkaku your..." His feet slowed and his frown deepened. Then he shook his head and picked up the pace again, "Some kind of cousin I guess. I dunno, it gets complicated for a guy like me."

"A commoner?" Ichigo asked because honestly he hadn't a clue what Abarai was on about, he was just hoping the guy'd let some useful information spill. He was certainly not hard to keep talking. Stopping to catch your breath was as good as an invitation for Abarai to start chatting again.

"Yeah, from Rukongai." Abarai huffed a small breath through his nose. "No family at all, see. Least not that I ever found. Think I might have had a mum once. I dunno, it kinda fades after a time."

"You mentioned that place. Big is it?" The bigger it was, the better Ichigo's chances of disappearing into it.

"Fuckin- flipping huge," Abarai corrected himself at the last moment, colouring slightly round the ears. "Seireitei's an island surrounded by a honking great big sea of Rukongai. It's rough an'all but most folks don't care so long as there's water and stuff to keep 'em busy till they move on again."

As they talked, another building appeared in the distance. This one really looked empty. Ichigo devoured it with his eyes, trying to remember everything he'd ever learned from TV about assassinations and infiltration. Then something Abarai had said registered as wrong. Ichigo frowned absently as he corrected him, " _Food_ and water, you mean."

"Nah, just water."

Ichigo shot Abarai a shocked look to find the guy smirking back at him. "People don't eat here?" If they didn't that was a whole weight off Ichigo's mind. Especially if what Abarai said was true and water was easy to find.

"Not the folks out there don't. Just us shinigami."

Abarai looked too pleased with himself by half. Ichigo rolled his eyes and ignored him like he would Keigo when he thought he was being clever. "So," he said, changing the subject and getting them onto to something that might prove useful for his escape attempt, "Want to tell me what to expect when we get where we're going?"

"Eh," Abarai said as he started up the front steps of the long low traditional style building, "Taichō'll want both of us tonight. After that, guess we'll have to see what happens."

#

By the time Byakuya had dropped the girls at the 13th and stayed the minimum length of time good manners dictated, night had fallen and he was eager to get home. He entered his chambers to find things had started without him. Renji was nude, had the boy on the bed, and was buried deep inside him, head tipped forwards and hips flexing. He could only have used the simplest of bindings as no trace of kidō lingered in the air, and Byakuya could not help but feel Renji was being overconfident. He may think he had control, but the Shiba are all stubborn to a fault. Total submission will not be won so easily.

Despite his reservations, Byakuya took the time to admire the view as he carefully placed Senbonzakura into its stand beside Zabimaru. It was entirely worth the effort; his fukutaichō was always magnificent. There was a feral beauty to him which drew Byakuya the first time he saw him, out there on the proving grounds. That day Byakuya had answered the challenge of three other captains to bring this one into his fold and he'd not regretted it a moment since.

Here tonight, he had even less to regret. The Shiba boy... No, Kurosaki; that was the name he claimed; was all lean lines and wiry muscle. Together, he and Renji were a study in contrasts. 

Bare feet silent on the tatami, Byakuya stepped further into the room, allowing the light of the lamp to fall just so across Renji's skin. The gleam of rolling muscle was accentuated by dark lines of ink that crested and fell into sinuous writhing patterns over every inch of his body. Byakuya was intimately acquainted with each one, having spent gold on the work himself when he felt indulgent. And taken the payment back in kind when he hadn't, passing entire nights mapping every one with his nails and tongue while Renji begged for relief.

Kurosaki was spread wide beneath Renji, hips held high, his spine a shadowed line dipping down to shoulders curled with tension. Sweat beaded across his pale skin and his ribs heaved with every gulped breath. His hands stretched above his head, each muscle strung tight, though the detail of the binding was covered by the same pillow that hid the majority of his face. The rest of that was obscured by his hair, a shock of orange that managed to be a brighter shade than even Renji's.

But it lacked the bloody taint which Byakuya adored and it was that crimson mane which, loose and wildly tangled, proved Byakuya's undoing that night. It sang a siren song he could not resist.

Three long strides brought him to the edge of the bed and he snagged his fingers in that glorious hair and tugged. Renji groaned, arching back into the grip in a way Byakuya knew was as much genuine desire as it was artifice. He had noticed Byakuya's presence, of course; a fukutaichō was always aware of his captain's location, his whim, his desire. That was his role and no other.

He stooped to take possession of Renji's mouth, demanding entry and relishing his immediate surrender. The kiss was hot and wet and the passionate promise of it was enough to make Byakuya’s heart bound in excitement. He tightened his fingers, digging his nails into Renji’s scalp, feeling the warmth radiating from his body as they pressed close. His other hand curved a path down Renji's neck, his thumb accurately tracing ink-black lines with no need to consult his eyes. When he reached the swell of pectoral muscle, he flattened his palm, feeling a pebble hard nipple brush against the heel. His nails scratched downwards leaving red traces in their wake, bringing his fingers within reach, until he could pinch and twist and tug, until he could make Renji squirm and moan and pant into his mouth.

A moment later an answering groan came from the bed that sounded far from unhappy. Byakuya smiled and nipped at Renji's lower lip, hearing the moan again, this time accompanied by a muffled gasp. The boy had to be reaping the benefit of Byakuya's attentions second hand. It was intriguing and Byakuya deepened the kiss as much to hear that sound again as to enjoy the slide of tongue against teeth and the hot puff of Renji's breath on his cheek.

He sensed the sharp flare of reiatsu and caught the boy’s hand even as it swung. Byakuya's reflexes were excellent, honed by years of Senbonzakura's demanding speed, yet the dagger-sharp shard of wood that was heading for his eye missed the juncture of his fingers by only a whisper as they snapped closed around the boy's fist, and when he turned, the tip brushed against his hair. He invoked sai with his next breath, sending Kurosaki crashing to the bed, arms locked behind him and curses falling from his lips. A second bakudō silenced him.

Renji tumbled backwards with a choked off, "Fuck!" his expression open and shocked at the close call.

Byakuya lifted an eyebrow, adjusting his haori as he rose. He was not surprised by the boy's actions, having expected something of the sort from the very start. Kurosaki might be a new soul but he was descended from a long line of Seireitei's finest. To capitulate without a fight had seemed immediately suspicious. Still his technique had been sloppy and showed a distinct level of desperation. Perhaps his apparent enjoyment in the moments before the attack had not been as feigned as Byakuya had initially thought.

He turned his back on the bed and paced over to his table turning the shard of wood between his fingers as he went. Traces of blood showed along the raw edge. Blood that was not his own. Some might take that as a warning and bring this encounter to a close. Byakuya had never believed in taking the easy option and his determination to keep this one and win him over grew exponentially at the discovery. But he did not want to risk breaking a potentially valuable young man. He would rather mould him. In Byakuya's experience, that was simply a matter of finding the correct combination of levers and applying them in the right places. And he thought he may know which would be the most efficacious in this case.

Renji was still on the floor, propped up on his elbows, legs sprawled apart, his erection visibly wilting. He was staring at the snarling boy in complete disbelief. After a moment or two he sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face in an obvious attempt at re-centering himself and then clambered to his feet muttering, "The hell he get a thing like that anyway?"

"I would suggest he pried it free of the floor," Byakuya replied tossing the wood over to Renji and gesturing to the streaks of red along the boy's back from his ripped fingernails. The blood had also left marks on Byakuya's tekkou. He frowned in annoyance, stripped them off and dropped them to the floor as he continued, "He seems not to have been as immersed in your activities as you were."

Renji blanched at the implied criticism as well he might. Byakuya turned away to conceal a slight smile at his plight, unwinding his scarf and draping it across the clothing chest. He was not by nature cruel but teasing Renji did have its benefits. "I may be prepared to forgive," he suggested at last, sinking to his knees in front of his dressing mirror. "If you give me an adequate enough show." As he spoke he began unravelling the kenseikan.

Behind him Renji scrambled to obey, leaning over Kurosaki, grabbing his hair and whispering something urgently into his ear. From the aggressive shake of his head and deepening scowl on his face, Kurosaki was still not feeling co-operative. Perhaps now was the time to finish the conversation they started back in the living world.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," Byakuya said, and the boy's eyes searched out his in the mirror. Renji had hauled him up onto his knees, forcing his torso into a sharp bow around his bound arms, and he was glaring in a way that promised death should he win himself free. Byakuya ignored it and continued speaking as he systematically worked on the next set of threads.

"Your sisters are safe for now, this much I can promise. However their future, and yours, depends entirely upon your co-operation. I trust the implication of that is concise enough for you."

"Fuck you!" the boy spat the second the bakudō silencing him was lifted, despite Renji's warning yank on his hair. "You and your magic! You're screwed without that! A weak-as-shit aristo who can't do fuck-all without his bodyguard."

Byakuya's hands stilled in his hair and his eyes slid to his fukutaichō seeking some explanation for this unlikely outburst. "Renji?" he asked with enough of a lift to his voice that Renji paled still further.

"I dunno where he got that from, taichō." Renji's words fell over each other in their urgency to escape. "I swear I just answered a couple of questions, filled him in on a couple of things, that's all."

"And yet he appears to be under the impression that I am in some way inferior to you." Was there a chance Renji took the opportunity to try and suborn the boy? Worse, was he trying to take the 6th? No, that Byakuya could not believe. The idea of Renji turning against him was unthinkable, the mere concept bringing flutters of disquiet to his gut.

But Kurosaki had not yet finished. The tirade continued, "You're so freaking up yourself you haven't even noticed Abarai's after your squad!"

Byakuya was standing before he truly registered moving, searching for Senbonzakura even as he remembered it lay beyond his reach. Renji tossed the still protesting boy aside and hit the floor at Byakuya's feet, his hands fisting tightly as he kowtowed, his demeanour as agitated as Byakuya had ever seen it. "Taichō-sama, I swear," he said, "I never said anything like that. I wouldn't, sir, I swear. Maybe his father-"

"My excuse for an old man didn't say fuck-all about anything," Kurosaki said, struggling up from the other side of the bed. He took one look at Renji and snarled, "What the hell, Abarai? You've got that freaky-ass power. Don't grovel to him, kick his ass!"

Although Renji looked even more panicked by this statement, for Byakuya things suddenly started making much more sense. He felt something inside unclench. This was a simple misunderstanding, not treachery. Apparently the boy mistook poorly contained reiatsu for an indication of true power levels. His assertions about the preferences of the division were no doubt based on something equally erroneous. Renji was loyal.

Yet without that slip of the tongue, this scenario could have played out in a very different way. Setting officer against officer was a tried and tested method of attack and one Byakuya should have been looking for, except he had not thought to find it in one so young and apparently inexperienced. 

His irritation at himself and this entire evening flared to a hot burn and, rather than offer a verbal defence, he corrected Kurosaki's misapprehension through the blunt application of force. Without movement or comment, he unleashed the full power of his reiatsu, sending it thundering out into the night. The looking glass behind him vaporised with its passing, delicate interior screens shredded and both Renji and the boy trembled, pinned in place by the weight of it. After a moment, Kurosaki's eyes rolled back and he fell limply to the bed. The display would create chaos throughout the manor but Byakuya felt the demonstration worth it, and not only for Kurosaki. 

Byakuya reined his power back in, wrapping it closer to him than any cloth, and leaving Renji gasping on the floor. In a gesture of both annoyance and trust, Byakuya turned away, removing his haori and placing it carefully alongside the scarf. There was neither sound nor movement from behind him though the tension in the air was palpable and for the first time in many years he could sense the chaotic flutter of Renji's reiatsu as though he was having difficulty controlling it.

Beyond Renji, he felt the horde from the main house descending upon them. Byakuya grimaced and said, "I suppose that was inevitable. Deal with the guards, and reassure those of my family now certain of my demise that they are premature in their celebrations."

He heard a mumbled, "Taichō," and the sound of Renji scrabbling for his clothing. Before he had a chance to slip away, Byakuya added, "You may return afterwards." 

There was a sudden silence, then a huffed breath and Renji said, "Right then, I'll be back as soon I've sorted 'em out. Want me to bring anything in?"

"Nothing," Byakuya said and glanced back over his shoulder. Renji was holding his clothing in front of him like a shield and his eyes were downcast. Byakuya felt a momentary pang of guilt which he quickly dismissed. It was appropriate to reinforce their relative ranks, and from all Kurosaki said, it seemed likely Renji had spoken without thought for consequence, a habit Byakuya had thought him broken of long since. Thus he was annoyed, though not enough to curtail the evening's activities. 

As the clothing did little to cover Renji's nakedness, Byakuya raked a possessive glance over him and said, "Do not be overly slow."

Renji smiled at him less nervously and nodded a deeper than usual bow which, for once, included a clear and respectful, "Hai, taichō."

After Renji left, Byakuya took a moment to compose himself. So far this day had conspired to infuriate him and it showed no signs of changing yet. Though perhaps his demonstration had earned some small victory with Kurosaki. It would interesting to see how he reacted when he recovered.

On the heels of the thought, Byakuya noticed a slight rise in reiatsu indicative of Kurosaki starting to come around. A flick of his finger reinforced the bakudō and he heard a quietly muttered, "Crap," before Kurosaki sighed and rolled onto his side, glaring in Byakuya's direction. "Okay, I get it already," he said, "I was wrong. You're a bad-ass. Now can you just let up with the magic before my arms drop off?"

The urge to discipline the boy was strong; Byakuya squashed it ruthlessly. Facetiousness may not the type of behaviour he wished to encourage but it was an improvement over outright belligerence. Instead he levelled his voice and said seriously, "Kurosaki Ichigo, have you now decided to co-operate?"

There was another huff, this one accompanied by rolled eyes. Byakuya felt his irritation rise and was forcibly reminded of his uncle's reactions to his own fits of temper. He controlled himself and repeated his question, albeit in an abbreviated form, "Do not make me ask again."

"Fine, yes, I'll co-operate, whatever, just take the manacles off."

Despite his rapidly expanding reiryoku, the boy posed no real threat so Byakuya removed the bakudō. Kurosaki immediately rolled into a cross-legged position, grabbed a pillow to cover himself and sat rubbing his wrists and arms.

Watching him, Byakuya was fairly sure he was pouting, though with his head down and his shoulders hunched it was difficult to tell. When he glanced up and noticed Byakuya's attention, he coloured rapidly with a blush that spread from his hairline to his clavicles. 

It was infuriating. He was acting as though this were his first time in another's bed and yet he was attractive and healthy and surely far too old not to have had at least one lover. The only explanation Byakuya could fathom was that his previous experience had been with a woman and thus he was unfamiliar with the ways of men together. If that was the case then Byakuya's hopes for the boy were not ill-founded; to keep his head to the extent he did whilst being taken for the first time could not have been easy. It boded well for his future training, in all spheres.

Byakuya continued undressing, aware of Kurosaki's silent observation. So long as the boy looked and did not move, Byakuya was content to leave him be. Only when he stripped off his shitagi, did he get a reaction; a sharp inhalation that bordered on a gasp. The scars, he presumed. Though decades old, their pink hue still stood in sharp contrast to the paleness of the rest of his skin; three distinct points of impalement through chest, belly and shoulder, along with matching scars on his back. There could be no mistake, the wounds were meant to be fatal.

He raised an enquiring brow when Kurosaki continued to stare, and slipped on the sea-green kimono which had been laid out for him, easing his hair free of the collar. As he started undoing his hakama, Kurosaki's gaze flew back to his lap and he started kneading the pillow hard with his knuckles. The blush had intensified, reaching below his nipples and covering both shoulders, and for a moment Byakuya allowed himself to be charmed. This boy, who had thought nothing of attempting to stab him through the head, appeared endearingly innocent in matters of sex. Or was until he was brought here by Renji and... ah. Perhaps therein lay the problem.

"Did Renji not-" he began, just as Kurosaki blurted, "I've never done anything like this before." He followed the statement up with a glower so fierce it would put a temple guardian to shame.

Byakuya schooled away a smile. A young man's pride was a fragile thing and it would never do for Ichigo to think he was laughing at him. Keeping his expression as flat as possible, he said, "Then perhaps you should tell me what you have done."

For a brief moment Byakuya was concerned the boy was about to have a seizure; the way his mouth worked combined with the almost puce shade of his face was distinctly disturbing, then just as Byakuya was about to suggest breathing as a viable life choice, Kurosaki inhaled deeply, squeezed both eyes shut and said, "Nothing, okay. I've never done anything. At all. Ever. With anyone. Until Renji and he..."

Some of the tension leached from his shoulders along with a long drawn out sigh. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, older, more mature. "I was too mad to really think about what was happening. All I could focus on was waiting until you got here so I could kill you both and escape."

The boy was telling the truth – up to a point. His dropped gaze gave the rest away. Embarrassment could be the cause but Byakuya wasn't convinced, or at least not entirely in this case. It looked to Byakuya as though Kurosaki was using his naiveté to gain trust where it was not deserved. Was this how he'd manipulated Renji? Byakuya resolved to enquire later. It didn't do to have a scorpion in one's midst without being fully aware of its sting.

"That is not necessarily a bad thing," he said, testing the waters. "You will have fewer bad habits to break."

The smile he received in reply bordered on winsome and that was the last piece of evidence Byakuya needed. Leaving the final ties on his hakama firmly knotted, he held out a hand and gestured the boy to come to him. 

Kurosaki complied, unwinding from the bed and dropping the pillow behind him as he stood. The liquid way he moved was in complete contrast to the hectic flush of embarrassed colour across his cheeks and chest. This was the first time Byakuya had had the chance to observe him in action and it was immediately obvious that he had been trained. In hakuda probably, given Isshin's competence in that area.

As he drew close, Byakuya braced himself for the attack, and this time he was expecting it. Again there was a flare of reiatsu and, though smaller than previously, it was enough warning to enable Byakuya to raise a finger and release sai a moment before the head-butt connected with his nose.

The boy yelped and tumbled backwards onto the bed, legs sprawled, his arms, perforce, tight behind his back. "What the fuck?" he accused, "I thought you'd got over bondage central?" 

"And I thought you had promised to co-operate."

"Well, yeah, but-"

"I did not imagine your attack." Byakuya spun away from the bed, irritation burning through his veins. He had expected resistance; noble blood breeds true and the Shiba were notorious for their stubbornness; but this was becoming farcical. Since he was not prepared to harbour a rabid dog, he had to find some way of proving to the boy that he was serious, and yet he was blocked by complete denial at every turn. It was as though Kurosaki were incapable of admitting defeat, incapable of submitting to the inevitable. 

Perhaps if he brought one of the sisters... No. Such an act would be without any semblance of honour and Byakuya could not bring himself to seriously contemplate it. The boy had called his bluff on that matter and won. Which also could not be borne.

They were at an impasse. Perhaps the wisest thing to do would be to wait for Renji's return. His fukutaichō may have some suggestions as to how to deal with Kurosaki. He was always so much better with personnel problems.

Distantly registering a rustle of bedding behind him, Byakuya turned to see what insult the boy had decided upon now. 

The roundhouse kick came from nowhere. Unheralded by reiatsu it smacked solidly into the arm he threw up at the last moment to protect his face, the impact jarring him to his very bones, far more so than it should coming from a newly severed soul. 

The boy's arms were free. 

For the briefest second Byakuya's mind stuttered in confusion – he'd used sai, he knew he did – and that was when the fist hit him. The blow was glancing and by rights should have done no more than damage Kurosaki's hand, and yet it snapped Byakuya's head back, bringing, unbelievably, the taste of blood to his mouth. 

It was that which broke through. And Byakuya responded with a backhand which spun the boy on the spot and knocked him flat. He followed up with a move he must have absorbed directly from his uncle's hands. He dropped to the floor, hauled Kurosaki across his lap, pinning him tight with legs and arm, and brought his free hand down with a reiatsu enhanced smack. The resulting bellow of pain and humiliation repaid every aggravation he had suffered that day. 

Ignoring the squirming, the declarations of hatred and attempts to bite, Byakuya continued his campaign on the boy's naked backside, punctuating his blows with the words he had been schooling into silence for far too long.

"Brat! You have breeched the limits of my tolerance. I have offered the hand of friendship and you have done nothing but spit in my face. Yet you fail to grasp even the basic tenants of your situation. Without my protection there are none to challenge against any who bid for you. None to gainsay any scheme, however debased. You are nothing but an ignorant fool. If you continue down this road, the three of you will be destroyed!" 

When Kurosaki's resistance finally faded from cries to yelps and thence to jerking sobs, Byakuya slowed his hand, bringing it to rest on skin turned scarlet and burning from the spanking. His anger subsided with it. In a great many ways he could understand the boy's actions, but he could not allow them to continue. The liability was too great.

Releasing his grip on the back of Kurosaki's neck, he angled the boy's face towards him, ignoring the tears and spit and snot, and said, "Kurosaki Ichigo, I promise that even if I have to spend the rest of eternity teaching you, for your own sake, and for that of your sisters and clan, you will learn to submit."


	2. The Fool Who Captured the Moon

It took Renji a stupid amount of time to sort stuff out. One of Kuchiki-taichō's aunties, the real ones not one of the gaggle of old women who said they were just to seem more important, tried insisting on seeing her nephew. Since Renji reckoned that was the last thing taichō wanted right now, he turned her down which went over about as well as expected. After a whole slew of insults about gaki and commoners from 'out there' that she'd never have used if taichō had been within earshot, Renji eventually resorted to a blast of reiatsu to get the old bag to listen. Well, that and a promise she could see the captain first thing in the morning if she left him alone now. She retreated, but with bad grace and muttered complaints.

That was when Saito, head of the manor guard, turned up to tell him about the mod souls. Taichō's reiatsu had fried the ones in the static sentries and a couple of the mobile ones had gone nuts. Renji supervised getting them rounded up and destroyed, then headed for the secure storage room for replacements, only to discover that a good half of the ones in stock were dead. How the hell that had happened, Renji didn't know, but replacing them was gonna mean a round of negotiations with Urahara, and Renji really didn't want to think about that right now. The timing sucked with the Shiba kids and all, and he made a note to have a word with Kira about loaning a few mods from the 4th to tide them over, until he remembered that Kira was now at the 13th, and might not be in a position to oblige. 

By then he was hot and sweaty and since taichō hated him coming to bed in that state, he took a detour to the manor baths to clean off, which led to unravelling the knots in his hair and the never ending task of rebraiding the stuff. 

When he realised he was seriously contemplating scrubbing the tiles in order to delay the inevitable, Renji had to admit even to himself that he was just stalling. With a heavy sigh, he slid down the wall until his ass hit his heels and tipped his head back to stare blindly at the ceiling. He was trying not to think about it, would rather think about anything else, but the images weren't going away.

Every time he stopped to catch his breath all he could see was that bit of wood heading towards Kuchiki-taichō's eye. Any other place and the chances of it causing damage would have been laughable, but there just wasn't a good way of using reiatsu to protect the eyes like you did the rest of your body. If you wanted to see, you kept the levels down, simple as that. So that shard would've gone straight through, blinding the eye for sure, and maybe even killing the captain. Did the kid know, Renji wondered, or was it just a lucky strike? It wasn't common knowledge, after all. He knew, sure, but then he'd been trained to kill shinigami.

Whether he knew or not, it would still have been Renji's fault. As fukutaichō, it was his job to watch his captain's back and he was the one who'd failed to make the situation secure. He should have used kidō but... Renji thumped his head against the tile in frustration, his fingers curling into fists on his thighs. Damn it all, the kid had been all over him before taichō turned up. He could still feel that hot insistent body pushing against him, the dirty stuff the kid had murmured in his ear, the hands in his hair tugging him down for a kiss, that tongue shoving into his mouth. The taste of him; nervous and horny and oh so sweet. Shit, what was he supposed to think? Kurosaki had been climbing him like a tree before Renji chucked him on the bed to fuck him. There'd been nothing, not a single clue that he was gonna try something... 

Another sigh, this one dragged up from the depths. Renji dropped his chin to his chest and inflicted his glower on the floor. One hand drifted to his cock and he gave it an absent-minded tug. It didn't matter a single god-damned fuck what Renji thought he knew, it wasn't gonna change the facts. If taichō hadn't been as fast as he was, Renji would have committed the worst crime a fukutaichō ever could: his captain would have been injured on his watch.

The lampman's low cry in the distance brought Renji rattling back from his self-recriminations. Ten o'clock! Crap! With a curse, he leapt to his feet and snatched up his clothing. At this rate, he'd end up being punished for being late on top of everything else. His fingers fumbled stupidly with the ties until he ended up abandoning any attempt at propriety and just held his shitagi together as he shunpo'd out into the night.

Despite knowing it'd mean getting in even more trouble, Renji still found his pace slowing as he drew close to the captain's quarters. With a disgruntled mutter, he chivvied himself along. Whatever taichō had cooked up for him, Renji knew he deserved it, and it couldn't be worse than the pounding he was giving himself. Still it took a lot of guts to actually take that final step and hand himself over, so he was kind of relieved to spot a familiar figure outside the building; at least he wouldn't have to drag his own reluctant ass up the steps, he could rely on the captain to do it for him.

Not that that would be happening, not for a while at least. 

Renji sidled back into the shadows of the trees to watch greedily as, wearing only hakama and with his hair caught into low tail at the nape of his neck, Kuchiki-taichō moved easily through sets of suburi. Elegant bare feet stepped and paced, paused and spun, stamping a dance across the cropped grass while powerful shoulders bunched and held, guiding the zanpakutō into precise swings which carved the air before him. It was breath-taking. Wearing so little, Kuchiki-taichō looked like a slice of the moon sprung to life, a bright ethereally glowing figure in the darkness. 

But why was the captain practising at this time of night? Nostrils flaring, Renji tried to catch a whiff of reiatsu so as to gauge his captain's mood, only to be caught off-guard for the second time that evening when a sharp kiai warned of an incoming attack. 

He only just managed to draw Zabimaru in time to block the sweeping overhead strike. Their blades collided, metal screaming across metal until they locked together, bringing their wielders chest to chest, weights braced, in perfect balance around the pivot of their swords. Faces inches apart, naked skin against naked skin and Renji couldn't help his feral grin, at the sensation and at his success. Was that going to be it? A quick draw challenge? Or was the captain looking for more? Hells, if he felt like a bit of rough, Renji wasn't averse to giving him a fight and then taking a dive. 

He smirked and ran his tongue lasciviously across his lower lip, a slight thrust of his hips an invitation for the captain to change weapons if he felt inclined. In reply, taichō curled his lip in an arrogant sneer and Renji's face fell. Shit, he knew that look. That was the one that said there was no winning tonight. If he tried to throw the match, he'd get the beating of his life, so he had to fight to win even though he didn't stand a chance in hell of succeeding. Well, in that case, he was gonna go down fighting.

A sharp upward jerk of Renji's knee sent taichō scuttling backwards, hissing, his eyes coldly bright at the impertinence. Renji yelled and dove after him, letting loose a flurry of blows that got blocked so easily he wondered briefly why he'd bothered, especially when the captain seemed to take it as a challenge and opened up with an assault of his own in retaliation. For several minutes then, all Renji could do was block and duck and deflect, working through stinging palms and sweat dripping into his eyes and breath that caught in his throat at the sheer damned relentless speed of the man he was fighting. 

His only comfort lay in the fact that, even last year, he would have been down and out by now. And they may only be using sealed zanpakutō, but neither of them was holding back. Taichō was fighting him with everything he had in terms of skill with his sword. No shikai of course, or kidō or shunpo. Only the most rudimentary hakuda, but even so, Renji was holding his own!

Real joy washed through him as he fell into the rhythm of the match and finally found enough balance to start looking for openings he might just be able to exploit. It wasn't going to be easy. Kuchiki Byakuya wasn't a captain for nothing. Block, block, step, block, there - There! The slightest drop of the shoulder as the blade swung! Renji side-stepped, muscles readying for the counterstrike, vision narrowed to that one spot, that single place of vulnerability – and staggered as his heel caught on a stone.

His knee smashed into the earth, driving a grunt from his lungs. He shoved down with his fist, intent on leaping back up, finding his feet, getting back into the fight, only to freeze at the sensation of metal against his neck. It was Senbonzakura, its edge hot against his sweat-slicked skin.

Cool fingers closed around Renji's where he gripped Zabimaru, and he surrendered his zanpakutō with a resigned sigh and closed eyes. "Sorry, taichō," he said quietly, resigning himself to the beating that was going to follow. He deserved it, whatever it was. But instead of pain, there were words.

"Up," taichō said and when Renji blinked up at him in surprise, he gave a quick jerk of his head. "On your feet. Over there."

Renji pushed up off the ground, yanking his shitagi back onto his shoulders, and took the required steps backwards until he collided with the pine which graced the entryway to the captain's quarters. Senbonzakura still lay against his neck, pressing hard enough that Renji had to keep his reiatsu thrumming just beneath his skin to avoid being cut. He frowned, confused. He'd screwed up his duties then lost the fight with a stupid mistake, by rights Kuchiki-taichō should be making him pay. What the hell was going on?

The answer to his unvoiced query came quickly.

A cool hand pressed against his chest. Renji glanced down at it and then back at its owner. "Situational awareness, Renji. Remember?" taichō said, and the glint in his eye suggested Renji was getting another lesson on the subject whether he wanted it or not. 

"Crap." Renji let his head drop back against the tree. He hated this test. And loved it at the same time. Such a short distance between those feelings despite the chasm of emotion between them.

Senbonzakura slid down from his neck to his chest, the length of the blade lifting until it was only the tip which he could feel resting gently against his sternum.

"Hold it, and don't move."

Renji didn't need telling twice. He wrapped both hands around the bare blade, iron-hard reiatsu control the only thing between him and a disembowelling, and braced himself. Zabimaru flashed once, twice, and Renji's hakama fell to the ground, pooling around his ankles, another layer of black against a floor already inky dark. Taichō dropped to his knees, landing cushioned by the cloth he'd just freed, and stared up along the length of Renji's body, his heavy-lidded gaze intense and hungry. Torn between terror and desire, Renji felt his throat working and his dick stir. Kuchiki-taichō could always bring this out in him, get his blood pounding so loud that he could hardly breathe, and that before even a single touch.

Cool air played over his belly and Renji jerked, eyes flying open. He hadn't even realised they'd been closed. Taichō's cool eyes met his and held them as long fingers deftly tugged apart Renji's fundoshi, allowing the strip of cloth to loosen and then fall, baring Renji to the night air. He shivered, but not from cold. Despite the late hour, it was hot enough that sweat still gathered on his upper lip and greased his palms where they clung to Senbonzakura. 

But it was nothing compared to the heat which suddenly engulfed him when Kuchiki-taichō bent his head. With a strangled yelp, Renji thumped his head back against the tree to block out the sight of his captain's lips stretched wide around his dick, and tried to remember how this went. Balance the reiatsu; not enough and he'd lose fingers or stab himself, too much and they'd have everyone down from the main house again. The only way out was through, and pray to any gods who'd listen that Kuchiki-taichō was feeling merciful tonight.

A tongue played up the underside of Renji's dick and he fought for control, breath hitching as his hips gave tiny abortive jerks, desperate to thrust into heat and wet and glorious tight suction. His knees sagged slightly and he braced, digging in with his toes and feeling the sharp grind of bark against his spine. Above him, branches like cracks webbing through glass cut the moon into chips and chunks of icy white. Renji fixed his eyes on that and thought of cold things. Of cool and calm. Of being the unmoving centre of the tempest.

His breathing steadied, muscles relaxing. He was still aroused, could still feel every touch and swipe and suck. Feel spit-slick fingers pressing into him, opening him up. Feel the welcome stretch and burn, the pressure in just the right places and-

The moon! Look at the moon! 

Eyes watering and tears wetting his cheeks, Renji did exactly that, long years of practice permitting his gulping inhalations to calm again, his heart to slow. He was the eye of the hurricane. The still of the night. He was emptiness. The void. The nothingness into which every sensation could pour without consequence. 

Then Kuchiki-taichō opened his throat and swallowed Renji whole. Every scrap of Renji's hard won focus shattered in an instant, scattering like Senbonzakura's shikai into the breathless night as his body suddenly overwhelmed his mind, over-stimulated nerves catching up with every message they'd missed and delivering them all at once. 

Helpless to stop it, he writhed, hands tightening as his hips moved, and the blade burned into his flesh, the wet spill of blood onto his belly a mockery of the one he desired most. Renji gave a strangled moan, struggling to rebalance his suddenly wildly fluctuating reiatsu. 

It wasn't going to work. The pressure around his cock was constant, the fingers inside him deep and insistent, urging him on with every stroke. A cry of desperation built in his chest, "Taichō!" and suddenly the blade was gone, exploding into a thousand-thousand shards of cherry-scented death as his hands clamped helplessly into fists. He arched, thrusting deep into heat and wet and a strong sure grip, knowing his captain had him and, like always, would keep him safe.

He came to as his chest hit the front steps of the entrance way. Kuchiki-taichō was behind him, already pressing inside and Renji pushed back, forehead against the wooden planks and spine flexing, his knuckles whitening as he took his weight and the captain's too. The familiar shape of Zabimaru pressed tight against his side, clutched naked in taichō's hand, was no surprise. The second part of the lesson was just as important as the first and taichō never asked Renji to do something he couldn't do himself.

A cool breeze traced the length of Renji's back, followed by the light brush of silken hair and an ephemeral stroke of lips against his shoulders, a series of soft kisses that culminated in a gentle open-mouthed bite to the nape of Renji's neck. Renji shuddered, every muscle unwinding as his breath gusted free in a gut-deep moan. Taichō's arm caught him about the waist as he collapsed, the captain's long fingers spreading firmly over Renji's abs bringing them together, spooned so tight that fate might have shaped them that way deliberately. It was perfect, shiveringly so, to be held like that, desperate for his captain to move but too much in love with the way they fit to want anything to change.

Already reeling from the sensations, Renji opened his eyes to a moving tapestry of pinks and blacks. Senbonzakura's petals danced around them; shield, screen and lovers' bower all in one, rendering them invisible to any observing eye, which would see only unseasonal cherry blossom swirling in a blinding whirl. Renji smiled, heart flying at the sight, at the inner beauty it implied, a jolt of possessiveness for their owner coursing through him. _His_ captain. _His._

"Renji." It was just a name, but whispered so gently across his neck, it contained worlds of meaning that neither of them could ordinarily voice and Renji reached back, twining his fingers into soft hair that stirred in the cherry-scented breeze. 

A nip on his ear encouraged Renji to turn and he craned his neck, allowing Byakuya's mouth to crash down on his, opening for him and gifting all of himself as he always did, thrilling at the slide of tongue against tongue. The hand on his belly moved to his chest, nails teasing a path to his nipple where they tugged and tweaked until he was squirming and whining through his nose at the stimulation. Only then did it move again, this time up to his throat and chin where cupped fingers helped to ease his straining muscles.

Even so, the position was too uncomfortable for either of them to hold for long. Renji dropped forwards again, resting his head on his arms and spreading his knees wide. The hot press of bodies ended as Byakuya began to move, driving into him deep and slow, each thrust filling Renji until he gasped and shook, riding the edges of a pleasure he couldn't hope to fulfil again so soon, but sharp and wonderful even so. 

As the pace and strength of the thrusts increased, gentle touches became a firm grip on Renji's hip that held him immobile, unable to do anything but clamp his teeth into his own arm in an attempt to prevent any of the sharp cries and moans crowding his throat escape. That plan was foiled as Byakuya relinquished his single hand hold and instead wound his fingers into Renji's hair, tugging his head up and back. The new angle made Renji see stars and he realised that he was hard again. Hard and leaking and that if this kept up he was going to come for the second time in an hour. 

He choked back a cry as he felt another stronger yank on his hair and Byakuya growled, "Up," in a voice that demanded an immediate response. Renji reared back, abandoning the wooden deck in favour of a steadying arm around Byakuya and a hand around his own dick. A few tight rapid jerks and he was coming in hot, almost painful, spurts while, behind him, Byakuya's breath and hips stuttered simultaneously and Renji felt the strong shudder of release wrack his lover as Byakuya came with no more than a quiet gasp. 

Renji collapsed, absolutely drained and still tingling head to toe. A few seconds later Zabimaru clattered onto the wooden walkway beside his head. He blinked at his zanpakutō stupidly for a moment and then grimaced as Byakuya withdrew, leaving him feeling uncomfortably empty and exposed. 

He slouched down onto his side, squinting up at the captain who had sheathed Senbonzakura and was adjusting his hakama, looking no more ruffled than he might if he'd taken an brief evening stroll. Bastard. 

Renji was horribly conscious of his own filthy, sweaty state, any indication that he might have bathed that evening entirely gone. His skin felt sticky and grubby and his hair was everywhere, completely escaped from its braid and threatening to throttle him where it clung around his neck and shoulders. He dragged it together, scraping it back and knotting it, only realising afterwards that all he'd achieved was to get half dried blood all over himself from the cuts across his palms. Now the main event was over, they were starting to sting, as was the shallow wound on his chest. 

He flopped back with a disgusted huff and draped his arms over his face. He was crap. He'd lay money there wasn't a mark on taichō's hands. How the hell was he ever going to learn that level of control? Renji honestly wouldn't have believed it was possible for anyone if he hadn't seen the evidence himself so many times. 

"Did you plan on sulking there for the rest of the night?"

Renji parted his arms just enough so he could peer up at his captain. "Wouldn't have thought you'd have wanted me in yer bed, taichō," he said, hearing the petulance in his own voice even as he spoke. "Certainly don't deserve to be there."

"Since you have managed to almost get me killed, absent yourself for hours and then return only to fail yet again, I can see how you would come to that conclusion." Renji was on the verge of groaning in defeat when Kuchiki-taichō continued, "On the other hand, you are hardly alone in your shortcomings this evening."

There was something in his voice, some burr of concern. Renji shot upright and cast a quick glance towards the main bedroom before returning his attention to his captain. "What the hell happened? Are you okay?" 

"I am. As is the boy, if a little... sore," taichō replied, taking a seat next to Renji on the steps. The admission was enough to make Renji's brain stutter to a halt. He hadn't thought his captain the type to take what wasn't on the table and, as far Renji'd been able to tell when he left, Kurosaki wasn't even thinking about offering. He muttered something along those lines and got a sideways look for his trouble. "Not for that reason," taichō replied dryly. "Only a madman would attempt such a thing with that one at the moment. Which leads me to the question - Renji, what was he like when you brought him here?"

Funny you should ask, Renji thought, I've been retreading that ground myself all evening. He cast his eyes skyward for a second, gathering his thoughts. The moon was high and bright which meant it was getting stupidly late. "Really into it," he said aloud finally. "Obviously inexperienced but he was all over me, hands everywhere and the stuff he was saying. Seriously, if I'd thought he was any sort of threat I'd have had him trussed up like a chicken."

Kuchiki-taichō hummed under his breath and then said, "As I suspected, he is an excellent actor."

"He is?" Renji blurted, adding a second later when he realised that that probably didn't sound the way he meant it to, "Yeah, I mean, yeah he is. Totally pulled a fast one on me, sir."

A sudden flicker of reiatsu came from beside him and a dim glow split the night emanating from the ball of light now hovering above taichō's hand. "As he did on me, Renji," the captain said, and inclined his head, allowing the light to illuminate what the night had hidden up until now. The beginnings of a large bruise darkened the left side of the captain's jaw.

"Shit!" The expletive escaped before Renji could stop it. His hand flew to his captain's face, fingers ghosting over the skin which felt the slightest bit warmer compared to the rest of that cool perfection. The next second he was on his feet, face set towards the door, fists tight. "I'm gonna kill that little -"

"Renji." His name and the slightest touch on his arm stopped him as firmly as a direct command. He clamped his teeth closed around the rest of what he wanted to say and waited. It took the captain a moment or two but he got there eventually. "It was a lucky blow, nothing more. And he was soundly punished for it."

"I hope you thrashed his ass," Renji replied and you could have knocked him down with a feather when taichō smirked up at him and said, "That is precisely what I did."

"You..." Renji sat back down, not entirely sure his knees would keep him upright. He was torn between shock that his captain had actually lowered himself to carry out such a punishment and bitter resentment that he hadn't got back early enough to witness it. Damn that had to have been a sight to behold. "You spanked him?" he asked, just to clarify.

Taichō dipped his chin. "It seemed appropriate for such childish behaviour. Though I have to concede that he may not regard it as such." He was rubbing his right hand against his thigh as he spoke. Renji captured it and opened the fingers, rotating the wrist so the kidō lit it brightly. 

A slightly reddened line ran across the width of his palm; unlike the slices on Renji's hands, this was the only evidence of taichō having held Zabimaru's naked blade through his orgasm. As for the rest... The damage would never have shown on Renji's hands, they were too large, too thick. By contrast Kuchiki-taichō's hands were delicate for a man's. Strong and calloused from sword and fist, yes, but also slim and elegant, and those long fingers were almost as bruised as his chin and looked a little swollen. 

"You used reiatsu?" Renji asked, glancing up at taichō's face. He was regarding his own hand with something a little like wonder and perhaps a little apprehension.

"I did. Without he would have felt nothing." His gaze rose to meet Renji's. "Have you heard of the Quincy?"

Renji frowned. "That creep Urahara said the kid's mom was one."

"Indeed, but do you know anything more?"

"Erm..." Renji havered, unwilling to admit ignorance but neither able to outright lie.

Taichō saved him from himself. "They were a breed of humans capable of, among other things, using reishi to empower their weapons."

"Using reishi?" Renji asked, with a frown. 

"I will have to check the archives for the specific detail, however the boy is certainly capable of breaking free of a low level kidō, which was how he managed to surprise me. I had thought him secured."

Renji's belly curdled in self-disgust. Of course taichō hadn't been taken in by the kid's acting ability. No one'd be that stupid, just dumb old Renji. Then a thought occurred and he shot his captain a concerned look. "Hang on, what've got wrapped round him now?"

The light which lit Kuchiki-taichō's eyes was as smug as Renji had ever seen it. "Come and see."

After grabbing his hakama, Renji trailed his captain into the building past a stack of ruined screens piled in the entranceway. Apparently seeing to Kurosaki hadn't been the only thing taichō had been doing while Renji was away. The screens would be cleared by staff from the main house in the morning and Renji knew he'd better be up to supervise. Taichō didn't like any but his most trusted people working around his private quarters without an overseer, an attitude Renji whole-heartedly embraced. You never knew if someone had managed to buy one of them off. 

Inside, past the doors to the main room, they reached Kuchiki-taichō's bedroom and there was Kurosaki, lying at the foot of the bed in a tangle of long pale limbs and lavender coloured rope. It was as pretty a sight as Renji had ever seen, but his knee jerk reaction had nothing to do with the flawless alignment of knot and cord, nor the way the kid's arms and legs had been secured to perfectly frame his ripely glowing ass.

"You used – that rope?" He managed to bite back the 'my' at the very last second. Going by the way taichō tilted his head, Renji might as well not have bothered.

"It seemed advisable since the wildflower silk renders it the most reiatsu resistant material in Soul Society," the captain said as he moved over to the kid and knelt beside him, one elegant hand reaching out to rest on his shoulder. Renji swallowed down a hard lump of jealousy, because taichō didn't belong to him, no matter how much he wished it was true, and held his tongue as cool grey eyes glanced back at him. "The sleep spell is beginning to wear off. Go and wash, Renji, and this time return quickly. The night grows late and I wish to be clean myself before retiring."

Of course. Renji bowed and ducked out, quickly dropping by the servants' rooms on the way to the bath to let them know Kuchiki-sama was going to need a hand and to ask them to ensure breakfast was served early the following morning. It was bound to busy and, despite the late hour and promised lack of sleep, the captain would want to up and moving with the sun.

No longer sweaty and disgusting, and with his hair re-braided for bed, Renji was done and heading back towards the main bedroom within ten minutes. Taichō passed him in the hallway with no more than a nod in his direction, which Renji took to mean all was well. Sure enough Kurosaki was still flat out when Renji bent to give the ropes a thorough check over before preparing the bed for sleep. 

Taichō had moved him, loosened the ropes for sleeping and slipped a pillow beneath him. He might have cramp by morning, but no worse than that, Renji knew from experience. Interestingly, the almost corpse-like stillness of the spell had given way to a slight restlessness which looked like true sleep. Renji guessed it shouldn't be a surprise. It'd been a hell of a day for the kid and, by the looks of the bruising on his ass and dried tear marks on his face, Kuchiki-taichō hadn't gone easy on him at all.

"Told ya to listen to him, didn't I," he said, keeping his voice low as he tugged one of the light weight quilts off the bed to tuck the kid in for the night. "If you'd just stop fighting him, you'd see. He's a good man. The type who keeps promises, even if they seem impossible when he makes them."

Like the one he'd given Renji all those years ago.

Once the bed covers were rolled back, Renji settled into a comfortable seiza with Zabimaru across his knees and waited for taichō to return, sorting through the day's events and noting any that taichō should be made aware of in case something happened in the night. Once that was done, he let his mind drift and, inevitably dropped into his inner world.

 _Evening, Zabi,_ he said the moment he felt the chill of the desert night on his bare skin.

A snarly grumble from behind him said, _More like middle of the night,_ and was followed by an irritable sleepy hiss that made no attempt at all to form words but still conveyed the underlying meaning just fine.

Renji grinned at the familiar voices and spun round on his ass pulling his knees up to his chin and hugging them close. He was barefoot and wore only a thigh length ragged tunic, as he always did in this world, and his hair was shorter, caught up in high tail unlike his normal heavy braid. Why his appearance reverted, he didn't know. Nor did taichō, though he'd suggested it might be something to do with when Renji had first heard Zabi's name. Which, he guessed, also explained why this place bore such a strong resemblance to the proving grounds.

And didn't that bring back memories. Renji took a moment to indulge, recalling the ignorant child he'd been back then. 

For years he'd kicked around the camps, skipping from one to the next every time the shinigami came around 'recruiting'. He'd wanted nothing to do with them. As far as Renji was concerned they were nothing but bullies and brutes, an opinion he'd formed early and had seen no reason to change. But that day... that day...

…

"Oi, you!"

Renji took one look behind him, spotted black uniforms, and ran. There was a good half dozen of them, but they wouldn't catch him. Couldn't. He was way too fast for any shinigami.

A shadow fell across his path. Renji glanced up just in time to see an evil grin and the blunt end of sword heading towards him before a sharp blow to his temple took his legs and his awareness at the same moment. He was down and out before he even knew it.

He awoke, who knew how much later, desperate for a drink and panting under the pounding heat of the sun. Sweaty bodies pressed up against him on all sides and when he tried to wriggle out from amongst them, he realised he was shackled hand and foot. He shoved an elbow backwards, snarling over his shoulder at the guy who had his knee dug into Renji's spine, but the guy didn't react. His eyes were open but they were blank, unseeing. Like he was already dead and his body just hadn't noticed yet. A quiet moaning started up somewhere nearby and someone started sobbing. Renji kept his gaze averted, he didn't want to be a part of anything as cowardly as that. Okay, so it was looking bad, but whatever was going to happen couldn't warrant shedding tears over.

"On your feet, scum!" someone yelled and almost everyone scrambled up. Once standing, Renji could see there was about fifty prisoners, all men and all about his level of maturity or older, most in the rags of the higher districts but a couple in robes and sandals that suggested the lower, more civilised, ones. Was this a press gang? That seemed the most likely explanation. It wasn't the first sweep he'd been caught up in, nor the first he'd escaped. All he needed to do was keep his eyes open for a chance. Once he was back in the alleys of Rukongai, they'd never find him again.

Only something was different this time. As he shuffled forwards, dragged by the man he was chained to, Renji realised they weren't in Rukongai any longer, at least not any part he knew. That had mostly been Inuzuri and the districts adjacent to it, which granted weren't much more than a collection of huts and shacks, but it had been something. Out here, there was nothing. From horizon to horizon, there was only flat tussocky grass shimmering in the dusty heat. 

Apart from the shinigami, that was. There was a whole gang of them like a flock of crows in their dark uniforms, flapping around and arguing in loud raucous voices and posturing. Beyond them stood a couple of open-fronted tents, within whose darkly shadowed interiors Renji could just see figures moving about. Who they were, he didn't know, but the odd flash of white said they couldn't be shinigami. 

Then the group in front of the tents dispersed. One of them, a huge guy with long hair, an eye patch, and a terrifying grin that Renji realised was familiar, strode over to stand front of the prisoners. Some of the shinigami formed a rough perimeter around them and the long lengths of chain which attached the prisoners into groups of ten or so were unlocked and dragged away. That caused a buzz of voices, some in fear, some hope. Renji took the chance to work at the shackle around his wrists, trying to collapse his hand enough to tug it free. He gave up almost immediately; the fit was too tight.

The big guy stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled, long and piercing. Silence fell amongst the prisoners and, once he had their attention, he began speaking. "I've said this before, but for those of you who're hard of thinking, I'll go over it again," he said, standing with arms crossed over a chest that was more like a cliff face than anatomy. "You lot have reached the end of the road. We don't mind feeding kiddies, but adults is somethin' else, so every few years we have a bit of clean out, got it. Get rid of the hangers on, take out the trash. Which, in case you was wondering, is you lot."

Okay, this was definitely not a press gang. Starting to have a bad feeling where this might be going, Renji shot a worried look at the other shinigami, wondering if there was any way he could get past them if, by some miracle, he could get the shackles off his wrists and ankles. It didn't seem likely, they were too close together.

The boss shinigami was still speaking. "What we're gonna do today is see if any of you shitheads have got anything like potential. If you have, you might be given a chance to fight in the pits in Seireitei. It ain't pretty but at least you'll die with a sword in yer hands. For those that don't, well..." He looked around at the desolate landscape. "Reckon no one'll miss ya if we slit yer throats and leave ya out here to rot."

Holy shit! The stories about the killing fields were true! Over the years Renji had heard rumours but he'd always dismissed them; friend of a friend stuff never added up to much in his experience. But this... Crap, he was gonna die. Like a dog in the dust because he didn't have a scrap of talent, and he knew it. He was a thief and a brawler, not a swordsman, and it wouldn't matter if they gave him the finest steel in Soul Society, he still wouldn't be able to fight with it.

_Then let me._

Renji winced when he heard the voice rumble in his head. Damn it, this was not a good time for them to turn up. The last thing he needed was to end up distracted.

 _Shut up and go away!_ he thought back furiously. 

In reply he got an animalistic snarl overlaid with a hiss that sounded like a snake and, _If you die, we die with you and we're not about to let that happen, boy._

"Then make yourself useful and tell me how to escape," Renji whispered and then mentally kicked himself. He was having a conversation with an invisible friend in his own head when he should be looking for a way out. 

The huge shinigami had shut up for now but time was definitely running short because, as Renji watched, the first two guys in line were dragged out front and their shackles removed. They were both handed a sword and then the shinigami stood back to watch. What followed hardly qualified as a fight at all. One of the guys didn't have a clue how to even hold a sword. The other was a sadistic thug. After the third blow hit home and blood really started flowing, Renji stopped watching, turning his back and closing his eyes. Unfortunately he couldn't block his ears, couldn't stop himself hearing the begging and the screams, or avoid the wet crunch that made the world fall silent. 

Chin on his chest and eyes screwed shut, Renji made himself a promise, if he was gonna die here, he'd go down fighting up to the very last second.

 _That's more like it,_ the deep voice said and the other hissed, _Lissten close and we will help._

 _How?_ Renji demanded. _So far all you've done is call me names and distract me at the wrong time. Remember last week?_

A sense of embarrassment swirled round the inner presences. _Sserved you right,_ the hiss came finally and would probably have said more if the deep voice hadn't rumbled over the top of it, _Hush snake-tail, save it for later. Renji, when you're given the sword, you need to call us out. You need to say our name aloud._

 _Your name?_ The next pair had already been dragged out and since neither of them put up much of a fight, the shinigami stepped in pretty quick and finished them off. Their bodies were tossed on top of the first guy and it was easy to see that the pile was going to get much bigger and fast. The rest of the group were getting frantic, pushing and shoving to avoid being at the front. Renji, being one of the younger, smaller ones, was swept forward in the crush and before he could fight his way back in, a massive hand closed round his elbow and hauled him out.

"You'll do."

He looked up into the feral grin of the shinigami with the eye patch. This close, Renji could see his skin was a patchwork of scars and his uniform looked as though it had been stitched together from several different sets. Around his arm he wore a wooden badge with the number eleven and a diamond carved onto it. Renji stared up at him from his half-crouched position, seeing nothing but scorn in the shinigami's eyes, and forced himself to straighten his legs, push his shoulders back and stiffen his spine, even if his knees were shaking. The big guy cocked his head and some of the contempt faded. He nodded and then the shackles were gone, a sword was pushed into Renji's hand and he was shoved out into the dust and dirt of the makeshift arena.

The sword's grip was sticky under his fingers from the previous prisoner's blood. Renji made himself ignore it, clutched it tight with both hands and raised his head to look at his opponent. The guy was smaller than him, blonde and almost delicate, but the way he stood and the way he held his sword said he knew what he was doing. Shit. 

Renji swallowed, raised his blade and waited for blondie to make the first move. When it came, it was so fast that Renji almost missed it. He managed to swing his sword round into a haphazard block and felt his opponent's blade skitter along the rough edge almost slicing up his fingers before he leapt away. That shouldn't happen, he thought. It shouldn't be able to do that. 

_Then stop it,_ the deep rumble came inside his head.

 _Not now!_ Renji all but screamed, dancing out of range of another lunge.

_Yes, right now. Call our name, Renji. Let us join the fight! Let us help!_

It was stupid. How could a voice inside his head help in sword fight. Blondie attacked again, his blows fast and impossible to block. Pain blossomed across Renji's ribs and he gasped, one hand instinctively going to cover the injury.

"First blood!" someone called out. And in its wake he heard bets being laid. The odds against him were huge. He doubted there was anyone willing to wager even a single kan -

"Five thousand on the redhead." 

Silence fell and even blondie paused for a moment, his blade dipping as he stared at the speaker. Renji turned to look as well. It was the huge shinigami from before, who was now frowning at him and looking mad for some reason. "Don't turn yer back on him, yer fool," he bellowed, gesturing, and Renji spun back round just in time to get the tip of the blade through his left shoulder. His arm went slack almost immediately and he could feel hot blood running down the inside of his elbow. 

A disgusted, "Fuck!" came from behind him and he knew he had let the big guy down. Damn it all, he'd let himself down. What sort of idiot turned their back on an enemy during a fight. He didn't need a sword in his hand to know that was a bad move.

But he wasn't going to allow being down to one arm stop him. He took his stance and tried to ignore the throbbing pain and the blood and dust and the heat. Blondie came at him again and he managed to block, feet sliding back as he had to give ground. He tried for a kick, felt it connect and tried another. Now blondie was the one trying to get away. He wasn't a brawler at all, Renji realised, feeling a sudden surge of hope. If he could disarm him, get rid of the sword, he could take him out it easily. But how the hell was he going to do that?

 _Ssay our name._ The hiss flowed across his nerves making the small hairs on his neck stand up. 

"But I don't know your name!" Renji yelled, completely unaware that he'd shouted the words aloud. Then blondie lunged. Renji did his best to block knowing, even as he did so, that it wasn't going to work, that he was too slow. The blade thrust towards him at chest level, the sun glinting off the edge as it came, and Renji knew that it carried his death with it. He drew in a breath, knowing it would be his last, and screamed the words that were scrawled in fire and blood across his mind.

"Howl, Zabimaru!"

The sword in his hand kicked and he almost lost his grip on it. Then it changed shape, widening and thickening and growing fangs like a snake. Blondie's blade rammed into it and crumpled like clay meeting rock. Renji swung his sword round and smacked the guy in the face with the blunt end. He went down as hard as his sword, and suddenly it was all over. 

A shocked silence permeated the arena, and then all hell let loose. Renji found himself surrounded by black uniforms. Someone slapped a wad of cloth over his shoulder and another offered him a cup of water which he took gratefully, swigging back the tepid liquid like it was the finest sake. Hands urged him towards the shade and he staggered into it, legs like jelly, and sank down next to a water barrel, placing his sword carefully beside him and patting it once before pressing the cloth to his wound. He'd won. Somehow, he'd won. With a magic sword! 

"Nice fight, kid." The huge shinigami loomed over him, his grin even more feral than it had been before. "How'ja feel about joining the 11th?"

Renji frowned up at him, brain too boggled to really grasp the meaning of the words. He needn't have worried. Another voice cut over the top. "Take a hike, Zaraki. Yer captain's not hiring, so you're not in the market."

Zaraki's lip curled into a snarl but he dipped a small bow and backed away, revealing a man in a white haori with long straight blond hair. "Me on the other hand," the newcomer said, "I'm always on the look out for fresh meat and this one'd make a classy addition to ma stables." He leaned down over Renji, hand resting on the top of the water barrel, and grinned. It was broad and toothy and made Renji shudder. "Since you lost me a packet on the last bout, I reckon you owe me, yeah?"

"Try not to be a moronic as you look, Hirako, it's perfectly obvious the 12th should take him." 

The blonde – Hirako – staggered a couple of steps sidewards and glowered at the person who'd elbowed him out of the way. For a moment Renji thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, creating some kind of mirage from the heat, or maybe he'd got knocked on the head during the fight. But no, that was face paint, slapped on like some kind of demented kabuki player. It was black and white like a skull and, along with the make-up, the guy was wearing some kind of head-dress. Renji took one look and blurted, "What the fuck are you?"

Hirako snorted a laugh and skull-face glared at him before swinging his gaze back to Renji with a sneer. "Silence. Research subjects should be seen and not heard. Now tell me, do you have any diseases or infirmities which may lead to skewed experimental results or ill-timed expiration during say, dissection?" 

Renji recoiled, from the question and from the face that was suddenly shoved into his own. "What the fuck? I ain't answering your dumb-ass questions, weirdo! Piss off and leave me alone." 

Instead of insulted, skull-face just peered more closely. But unlike Hirako's expression, which had contained a greedy kind of heat that Renji was completely familiar with, the only thing this guy's face showed was a vague kind of curiosity, as though Renji was a pet who'd performed an interesting trick. Or... no, it was more like a chicken looking at a squirming worm and wondering if it was tasty. And any moment now, he was going to snap Renji up and swallow him whole.

If he hadn't been trapped against the barrel, Renji would have bolted. Instead he grabbed his sword and thrust it between him and skull-face. It had returned to its normal shape, but that didn't matter. It still had a pointy end, and he could still point it at the mad scientist, even if the tip did waver as his hands shook with badly controlled terror. "You're him," he said, heart pounding and dry-mouthed. "The one who comes and takes 'em away." 

It was another rumour, but unlike the one about the killing fields, Renji had suspected this one was true. He'd known a few of the kids who'd gone missing over the years and shit like, 'oh, he joined up,' and 'she found her dad and moved to east 15,' had never convinced him. The other stuff, the whispers in the night about bogeymen who stole kids away and turned them into monsters, or worse, hollows, had always felt truer to Renji.

And here was the proof, in front of him, grinning ear to ear and displaying a mouthful of teeth like tombstones.

"Looks like yer reputation preceded you, Kurotsuchi," Hirako quipped and Renji shot a poisonous look at him, all his worst suspicions confirmed. If this guy knew what the scientist did then they were all in on it. Bogeymen or not, shinigami weren't to be trusted. 

"But of course. An intellect such as mine couldn't possibly go unsung even amongst the unwashed masses. Now come along, whatever you are, I don't have all day to waste on your shilly-shallying." Ignoring the sword, Kurotsuchi grabbed Renji's arm and dragged him to his feet. Renji yanked back, but he might as well have been pulling on a stone wall for all the difference it made. The scientist just kept walking and, since Renji was attached to him, Renji went too.

Until Hirako grabbed his other arm and said, "Yeah, I don't think so. I don't remember seeing your division number tattooed on his ass."

"That's because it's not on his ass, you imbecile, it's on his shikai," Kurotsuchi snapped back, tugging hard enough that Renji felt the tendons creak in his elbow. He wasn't thinking about his other arm, which was pure pain from neck to wrist where Hirako held it. When Hirako opened his mouth to speak again, the scientist narrowed his eyes and added, "The rules explicitly state that those with shikai are excluded from the pits, which makes him mine, so I'll thank you to keep your thieving hands to yourself."

"Who said I wanted him for the pits?" Hirako argued, following along as Kurotsuchi started walking again. "Maybe I was thinking of offering him a seat. Yeah, to hell with it, why not. Let's make it a challenge."

Kurotsuchi stopped in his tracks and turned slowly, free hand drifting towards the sword through his sash and head cocking at an angle as he stared at Hirako. "Yes," he said after a long, weighty moment, and there was something akin to a purr in his voice, "Why not. I have the perfect thing for the likes of you."

Renji hardly noticed the exchange, he was too busy being grateful that they'd stopped trying to pull him in half. They might not be bigger than him but they were hellishly strong, and when they both let go to focus on each other, he scuttled backwards, his only thought that this would be the perfect chance to escape.

Since most of the rest of the shinigami were busy backing away as well, his plan might have worked, if he hadn't reversed smack bang into another solid, unmoving body.

He spun round with a yelp and waved his sword at the guy he'd run into – yet another one in a white haori. Were these the ones he'd spotted in the tent, he wondered? Were they in charge somehow?

This one was more normal looking than the other two, bordering on pretty for a man, with dark hair down to his shoulders held back with some kind of fancy white hair-clip. There was a sense of stillness, of controlled power, about him that made Renji feel like he'd suddenly touched bedrock in the midst of a raging torrent. 

Cool grey eyes flicked over him from head to toe, assessing and dismissing every part of him as inferior it felt like, and then focused on the sword. "Do you have the first idea what you're doing with that?" the guy asked with a voice that would have made the highest class first district merchant sound common.

Renji boggled at him, gaze flying from man to sword and back again. "Erm, no?" he said, but kept the sword up anyway.

"I thought as much. And yet you managed to put on an admirable display even so."

Something that could have been pride, or maybe hysteria, swelled in Renji's chest. "Ya think?" he replied, grinning cockily.

"Right up to the point when you turned your back on your enemy. A distinctly amateur mistake, I think you'd agree." The guy was turning away, haori flaring. It had a six written on the back and Renji suddenly realised that the scientist guy's had had a twelve and Hirako's a five. Were they captains? If they were then they were creatures of more legend and power than Renji could imagine. Even the idea of that was terrifying. But worse somehow was the idea of being left behind.

Renji took a step towards the retreating figure, hand outstretched. He wasn't sure why, exactly, he just hated the idea of being ignored, dismissed as nothing, by this man. It was stupid, but that was how he felt.

"I'm sorry..." he said. The man stopped and dipped his head as though waiting for more. Renji gave it to him. "...Sir." That won him a nod. Renji lowered his sword and reversed his grip on it, holding it out to the guy by the blade. "Could you, I dunno, show me how to use it properly, maybe?"

"You're asking me to train you?" the captain asked quizzically, turning back around so that he was facing Renji. 

Embarrassed by an undercurrent he felt he was missing, Renji scratched his head and shrugged, still holding the sword out. "I guess, yeah. I wanna learn, 'specially how to make the magic work again."

Some emotion that might have been amusement skated across the captain's face. "You wish to learn more about shikai." Guessing that that was what the magic was called, Renji nodded and shoved the sword towards him. It had ended up lying across his palms as he held it out, like an offering. The captain stared at him for a moment and then asked, "What is the name of your zanpakutō, your sword?"

A name? Oh, he probably meant... "Zabimaru, sir." 

"And your name?"

"Renji." The captain seemed to be waiting for more but this time Renji had nothing to give. He shook his head. "That's it, just Renji, sir. I ain't got a family name. Ain't got a family."

"Ah." Grey eyes dropped to the ground at Renji's feet. For a second Renji thought he'd blown it and then they rose again. "Then I shall call you Abarai."

"What?" Renji bristled at the implied insult. He wasn't some pet to be picked up and given a name all willy-nilly. 

The captain reached out and took the sword, which slid easily from Renji's hands despite his inner turmoil. "As my student," he said, "you will require a suitable name. And I deem that name suitable for you. Do you wish to take issue with my choice?"

Did he? Before the captain had spoken, had accepted his sword, the answer would have been a resounding yes. Now though? There was that one guy up in 76th district who was called Smelly Whore if you believed the rumours. Measured against that, Abarai wasn't so bad. So what if it was a nonsense string of sounds with no real meaning. Renji would give it meaning. In a few years it would be a name spoken with respect. 

"I guess not," he said, and then floundered to a halt in the face of the captain's heavy gaze. "Suppose I'll get used to it." He firmed his stance and looked up to meet the captain's eye, "I'll be honest, sir, I ain't had a master before so I'm not sure how this is all gonna work."

"A true stray, indeed." Warmth lit the captain's eyes for the briefest of moments, so subtle that it would have been terrifyingly easy to miss. It took Renji's breath and he almost missed the words that followed. "Then Abarai Renji, we find ourselves well-suited, since I have never before taken a student. Even so, there are forms that must be obeyed." 

The captain held the sword out towards Renji, hilt first. "I am Byakuya, serving head of Clan Kuchiki and captain of the 6th division of the Gotei 13. With this zanpakutō I claim you for self, family and division, and undertake to train you to the best of my abilities. Do you accept this offer and give yourself freely into my hands?"

Renji stared at him. Not five minutes ago he had condemned all shinigami as untrustworthy and now he was seriously considering swearing an oath of fealty to one. He didn't have a clue why he was going to do it, except that it felt right in some unfathomable way. As right as it had been to call Zabimaru's name, like a piece of him that had been missing was slotting into place. 

Decision made, Renji nodded and took the sword, then remembering his new position, bowed deeply to the the captain, like he'd seen people do in front of their masters. "I'd be honoured to serve you, taichō," he said and then pointed out, "however I can and by whatever name you're pleased to give me. Only erm... I think those two want me an' all." He glanced over at Hirako and Kurotsuchi, who were up in each other's faces snarling like a couple of fighting dogs. Getting your sword to work like that must be special, he guessed, though he had no idea why. It hadn't been hard. He'd just done what the voices told him to do. 

Cool grey eyes drifted towards the squabbling pair and Renji was quickly realising that this effortless front concealed an intellect and passion that would leave both Hirako and Kurotsuchi in the dust. "I see," Kuchiki-taichō said and drew his sword. The sun gleamed off the pristine blade, scattering light across his haori in a pattern that seemed to Renji like snow or falling blossom. "Then we shall clarify their minds forthwith. Attend closely, Abarai Renji. This will be your first lesson."

….

 _So what's with the kid?_ Zabimaru's question dragged Renji reluctantly back from his reminiscences. The nue was sprawled across the tussocky grass of their inner world gnawing on something that could have been apple, or maybe a bit of dried up meat. If it was meat, Renji didn't want to know what it had come off. The snake-tail, curled on the baboon's flank, flickered its tongue but didn't deign to speak.

It didn't have to. They were both part of his soul; they both knew Renji's deepest hopes and darkest fears. _I know it's dumb,_ he said in lieu of answering the question. _Now we've got bankai, it's only a matter of time before I get a captaincy and I can't leave taichō without anyone to watch his back._

The baboon's eyebrows flicked. _So what you getting all maudlin for?_

Because he didn't want to leave taichō. There was a huge part of Renji that felt like he would always belong to him. That he owed Kuchiki-taichō too much to ever be able to walk away.

 _Ssstupid,_ the snake tail hissed, head swaying up from its furry resting place. _Choicesss made cannot be unmade. Position makes no difference._

But it would. No matter how Renji looked at it, when he was a captain things would change between them. In some ways it might be for the better. Okay, Renji would still be a gaki from outside the wall but he wouldn't be the only captain who hailed from Rukongai. There were at least two others, and more besides who's parents had crossed the divide into Seireitei, and they were accepted. Renji had seen Kuchiki-taichō stop and exchange words with Aikawa-taichō just last week, so it wasn't like there wasn't a precedent. They'd never be equals but they might be able to become friends.

And Renji wanted that. There were times when he got so tired of the power games between them and just wanted to be with Byakuya, his lover, not his taichō or the Kuchiki clan head, and surely a promotion would make things a bit more even. 

But they wouldn't be _together_. 

Renji might be from Rukongai but he knew the Gotei 13. He knew the tensions inherent in a system where every squad was their own little island and every shinigami looked out for himself first. It would be next to impossible to maintain a relationship across such a divide for any length of time. As far as he knew there wasn't anyone in the Gotei who'd managed it.

That was thing, it was too damned difficult to watch someone else's back when that someone else was halfway across Seireitei in the middle of another division, and it only took one idiot to bring the whole thing down round everyone's ears. 

Renji tried imagining himself as captain of the 9th with a squad of his own, responsibilities in the Living World, and his own lieutenant to train up and trust. And then there was the ever present threat of attack. He knew how that worked. He'd seen the drain it had on Kuchiki-taichō being vulnerable every hour of every day, and on some level it terrified him. Much as he craved the independence of a promotion, he couldn't see himself playing politics like Kuchiki-taichō did, manoeuvring competing factions as effortlessly as he sent Senbonzakura's blades sweeping across the sky. By comparison Renji felt like a lumbering fool, a baboon like his zanpakutō. Even his bankai was a slow ponderous thing- 

A hard hand clipped him round the ear. He yelped and glared at Zabimaru, who was standing in front of him, one knuckled paw raised, snake-tail just visible over his shoulder and zigzagging like it was trying to take flight. _What the hell was that for?_ Renji demanded.

 _Idiot. You're lucky hebi couldn't reach you or it'd have hurt worse. We're nue, not a baboon, remember?_ A ferocious hiss suggested Renji better had remember unless he'd like a bite somewhere unpleasant. _And we only achieved bankai six months ago. It's gonna take work before it's as good as it could be._

Which was true. Renji sighed and hung his head. _You're right. And even if taichō is thinking of taking Kurosaki as his lieutenant, it'll be years before he's ready._

 _See, now you're thinking straight._ Zabi sat back on his haunches and snake-tail took the opportunity to dart forward and hiss, _Then sssteal the boy, steal the squad. Ssslide us between his ribs, a silent strike when he'ss not expecting, dead before-_

"No!"

"Renji?" Renji's eyes flew open to find Kuchiki-taichō staring at him from the far side of the bed, the slightest of frowns marring his brow. "Is everything all right?"

Shit, had he said that aloud? Damn that stupid snake-tail. "Fine, sir, sorry. Just Zabimaru's stupid sense of humour."

"Ah." Apparently mollified, taichō turned back to the bed and began to settle for the night. Renji stared at him helplessly for a moment, hardly able to believe what that darkest part of his soul had suggested, before giving up trying to make sense of it and joining him.

When they'd got comfortable in their usual position, Renji's arm round the captain, his head resting on Renji's chest, the captain murmured, "I do not wish to replace you, Renji, but I would see a gentler hand on the rein of some of these squads. You have too much potential in that regard to waste."

Considering everything he had done today, everything he had failed to do, the words were a lifeline for Renji's soul, for his sense of self worth. For a second Renji could do nothing but try and find the gumption to breathe. Then, just as he was about to say something nice in reply, a hoarse voice snarled from the bottom of the bed, "Oh you've gotta be kidding me! Ya can't leave me like-"

The words shut-off with shattering alacrity. Renji, forefinger outstretched and still tingling from the after-effects of the kidō, shot a look at Kuchiki-taichō, who, going by his pose, had apparently released a similar spell at the exact same moment. 

"Do you think...?" Renji began, wondering what the cumulative effects of too many 'time outs' might be. Then he sensed the kid's reiatsu firm and steady, dropping back into true sleep. It obviously hadn't killed him straight off, so he'd probably be okay.

"He will keep until morning," the captain said, settling down again. Renji took the opportunity to sneak a sniff at his captain's hair, still slightly damp from the bath, and closed his eyes in appreciation of the only scent that had ever meant home and safety to him. "You have first watch, Renji. Wake me in four hours."

"Hai, taichō," Renji said quietly before whispering into the silent privacy of his own mind, 'You're safe with me, Byakuya, I swear it. I will always have your back.'


	3. In Pursuit of Trust

Ichigo woke with incipient cramp in his shoulders, a sore ass and something cold and hard digging into his ribs. Oh and an overwhelming need to piss. Squinting into the half-light of the room through gritty eyes, he blearily registered tatami mats, the bottom half of a painted screen and the corner of a lacquered chest. He closed them again and willed the world back to normality. It didn't work. Not that he'd expected it to. At some point during the night, someone had shoved a pillow under his head and slung a blanket over him, which was kind of nice of them. Course it would have been better still if they'd untied him, handed over a machine gun and pointed him in the general direction of anything that looked like sanity, but with the way his life was going, that wasn't gonna happen.

Somewhere between getting fucked until he could hardly see straight and the last knot being tied in the rope, it had finally sunk in that this was real. And, despite rumour to the contrary, Ichigo wasn't completely stupid. He could recognize an unwinnable situation when he ran into one, he just tended to regard them a bit differently to other people. In Ichigo's book, there was no such thing as giving up. There was regrouping, biding his time, and waiting until the impossible became possible again. Because it would happen, eventually. Nothing stayed the same forever and his chance would come. And when it did, he was grabbing his sisters and his dad and getting the fuck out of this madhouse.

In the meantime, he thought, he probably ought to do his best to keep a lid on his temper, bite his tongue and co-operate. He had a suspicion that next time he punched the captain, he wouldn't get away with just a spanking.

A rustle of cloth and the quiet murmur of voices came from the mound of quilts and pillows that passed for a bed in this place. A moment later someone yawned and stumbled upright. Either Renji or Captain Kuchiki, Ichigo guessed. With any luck it'd be Renji. Ichigo didn't fancy trying to persuade Kuchiki to let him use the bathroom. 

Ichigo tried to twist around far enough to see who it was and failed. The rope didn't allow for much movement even if it was surprisingly comfortable, a bit like being wrapped in a tight, many-armed, hug. Probably the only reason he was starting to cramp up was pressure from whatever the fuck he was lying on. Had one of them left their sword on the bed the night before because it seriously felt just like a hilt where it was sticking into him?

Large feet and ankles decorated with dark flashes of ink passed through Ichigo's line of sight. Renji then. Remembering the big guy's straightforward attitude from the night before, Ichigo jumped in without hesitation. "I need to piss."

Renji ignored him and continued on towards the door. 

Thinking he might have spoken too quietly, Ichigo tried again, "I said I needed to piss."

Still nothing. Ichigo was about to speak a third time when a scratch came from outside and a male voice called quietly. "Kuchiki-sama, a messenger has just arrived from Central 46 and -oh, good morning, Abarai-fukutaichō!" 

Ichigo caught sight of a dark coloured sleeve and bowed head through the opened door as Renji said, "Give him breakfast, Koji, and keep an eye on him. Taichō'll hear the message later."

That dealt with, Renji looked like he was heading back to bed. Fuck that. Things were getting urgent. "Oi, Renji! You in there?"

Renji shot him a filthy look, did a double take, then strode over and yanked Ichigo's blanket away with a worried sounding, "Taichō?"

A sleepy, "Hn?" came from the bed.

"I'm guessing that when you tied the kid up last night, he didn't have a huge-ass carving knife stuck behind his back."

"What?" Ichigo blurted. That was what was poking him? He squirmed, trying to catch a glimpse of the thing, and failed to move yet again. Growling in frustration, he yanked on the ropes, thrashing like a landed fish until a hand on his shoulder brought him up short. 

"Be still, unless you are perhaps attempting to sever an artery," Kuchiki said, though he wasn't looking at Ichigo at all, but at something behind him. Presumably this knife thing.

"I didn't put it there," Ichigo said, feeling it was important that he made that clear. Not that he was scared of Kuchiki or anything.

The look he got for his trouble was coolly disdainful rather than outright pissed. Apparently the guy had regained his temper overnight. Or had taken it out on someone else's ass as well, like maybe Abarai's. For a second Ichigo considered feeling guilty about that, and then he remembered that Renji had stood by and watched while Kuchiki killed him and his sisters and, yeah, there was the anger again. He needed to remember that feeling, keep it banked and let it warm him when things span too far out of his control.

For long moments nothing happened. Some part of Ichigo suggested that perhaps he should be feeling self-conscious lying there naked in front of the two shinigami, but another, louder part, reminded him that since they'd seen and had their hands all over everything, it was a bit late to get prudish now. 

Then, just as Ichigo was about to ask if they were going to do anything apart from enjoy the view, there was a tiny flare of power from Kuchiki and a sensation not unlike a mild electric shock shot through Ichigo's innards. "Zzugh!" he coughed not very coherently.

"I guess that shows it's his zanpakutō," Renji said, then a second later added, "I always thought you had to have a sword or something first before you could do that."

"Manifesting from nothing is an unusual phenomenon, though perhaps no more than should be expected considering his parentage."

"You do know I can hear you, right?" Ichigo put in before anyone could say anything even more cryptic. He might as well not have bothered. 

"Think it was the 'time outs' we hit him with?"

"Hm, perhaps. Renji, the wrappings are tangled with the rope. We will need to move him, can you...? There, yes..."

Large warm hands slid behind Ichigo's thighs and he yelped out an obscenity, trying to jerk away from them. The next moment, Renji grabbed him by the rope across his chest and hauled him up until they were nose to nose. Renji's face was almost unrecognisable compared to the lust-drunk one Ichigo remembered from the night before. This Renji was cold and hard, with eyes like chips of bloody ice. "I'm trying to remember why I shouldn't rip your dick off and feed it to you for what you did to taichō last night," he growled, "so if I were you I'd keep still or this blade might end up cutting off-"

"Renji," Kuchiki interjected, his voice carrying a note of censure. "Such threats are unnecessary. I am quite capable of defending myself."

"Sorry, sir." Renji ducked his head, jaw bulging as he clamped it shut. The words escaped anyway a second later as Ichigo was efficiently manoeuvred over onto his front, thankfully without the loss of any important bits of anatomy. "It's just... Damn it, sir, he had no right taking a swing at you like that. If one of the division did it, they be in the clink by now or strung up on the gate to serve as a warning."

"They would. However, since Kurosaki Ichigo is not a serving member of the Gotei 13, you would do well to remember that such rules do not apply in his case." Which, Ichigo noted, was not the same thing as saying those things couldn't happen at all. 

Ichigo was beginning to realise that the things Captain Kuchiki _didn't_ say were sometimes more important than the things he did. And more vital than both were his actual actions.

For example, for all his talk about Karin and Yuzu's welfare being dependent on Ichigo's good behaviour, Kuchiki had never overtly threatened them even once. And even after Ichigo attacked him outright, he hadn't had them dragged in and punished, which Ichigo had kind of half-expected to happen. 

The bits of conversation they'd managed to fit in the night before took on a slightly different cast in Ichigo's mind. What was it Kuchiki had said? Ichigo frowned, racking his brains for the exact phrase the captain had used while he'd been thrashing the living daylights out of Ichigo's ass. Something about being ruined if he kept on the way he was... That was it! _If you continue down this road, the three of you will be destroyed._

That wasn't a threat, it was a explanation. He was saying that if Ichigo didn't toe the line then things would happen that he couldn't protect them against. Which by implication meant that he was willing to protect them against other things.

Why the fuck would he do that after killing them?

Ichigo's navel gazing was interrupted by a couple of sharp tugs on the rope, followed by an annoyed hum and the rustle of silk. When the captain spoke again, it was from a distance away. "This is too complex a problem to be solved at speed. Renji, make him comfortable and then attend me. We will loose him once the messenger has been dealt with."

A hand in his hair lifted his head enough to allow a pillow to be shoved beneath it, then a calloused palm patted him on the ass. "Don't go anywhere," Renji said with a smirk in his voice, and that apparently was that for the niceties. Leaving Ichigo face down on the tatami with a sword tied to his back, the pair vanished out the door without so much as a backward glance.

"Oh, come on!" Ichigo yelled after them as the door slid closed. "At least stick the blanket over me..." The words trailed off. There was no freaking point. And he still needed to pee.

Ichigo thumped his head on the pillow a couple of times in frustration and tried loosening the rope himself in the hopes he might be able to cover up a bit at least. What if that servant came back? Damn it, this was just humiliating. 

His efforts were about as successful as they'd been the night before. Not that he'd tried very hard back then. His memories were a little hazy in all honesty, but he was pretty sure he hadn't fought Kuchiki at all. In fact, Ichigo thought he might have been crying too hard to fight him and that was way too embarrassing a thought to contemplate.

He craned his neck to peer around the room for anything that might be useful and got jabbed in the back of the head by the hilt of the sword for his trouble. How the hell had it got there anyway? Renji and the captain obviously had some theory, not that they were sharing it with Ichigo. 

The door opened again. Ichigo looked up in the hopes that one of the shinigami had returned, took one look at the pretty girl in a pale green yukata carrying what looked like a chamber pot and the moustachioed servant in a short-sleeved tunic looming behind her, and realised that all his experiences in Soul Society up until now were as nothing in the face of this latest humiliation. 

"Abarai-fukutaichō said you were in need," the girl said quietly, stepping into the room. Fuzz face followed her, taking up a post by the door, arms folded across his chest, while the girl, her footsteps dainty and silent, crossed the tatami towards him. 

"Actually, you know, it's not that bad," Ichigo said, blushing furiously, his words falling over each other in his hurry to spit them out. "I can just wait. They'll be back soon and – Ulp!"

In a single move, she had straddled his back, slid an arm around his chest and lifted him so he was balanced on his knees. It was horribly uncomfortable, impossibly precarious and totally mortifying. Ichigo could feel his blush increasing and when he realised where her hand was heading, he screwed his eyes shut and pretended to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. The North Pole maybe. Or the Mariana Trench. So long as it wasn't this room, with a girl holding his dick and expecting him to pee into a pot, it had to be an improvement. 

Despite everything, given the right circumstance his bladder succumbed, releasing a hot stream that Ichigo tried not to hear splashing onto the porcelain. Once he was finished, the girl shook him off, patted him dry with a soft cloth and then lowered him back down. Ichigo tried to keep going through the floor, but simple physics foiled him, so he lay there, unmoving, eyes still closed and blush still rampant, until he heard the door open and close again. Only then did he let himself think. 

Face pressed into the pillow, he cursed Abarai to the end of the world and back again. That bastard! He'd done it on purpose, Ichigo was sure of it, as revenge for taking a swing at his captain. Well, fuck that. When he got free of these ropes, Ichigo'd there with some payback of his own. And it'd be better, somehow.

But what about the girl? Ichigo's brain stumbled over the implications of what she might have seen. It was bad enough that she'd had to help him pee, but the rest was even worse. His ass hurt enough that it had to be bruised, not to mention the other marks from Renji and the captain. And he'd been naked in the captain's rooms, with both of them, all night. And tied up with rope. The obvious conclusion was gonna be obvious even if it was inaccurate.

His blush flooded back with enthusiasm, as did the desire to be anywhere but here, and this time when Ichigo tried to fall through the floor, it worked.

The sudden sensation of plummeting through space was followed rapidly by a sickening internal lurch, as though someone had shaken reality inside out, and then Ichigo smacked into the ground, hard enough to drive a pained grunt from his chest. For a long moment he just knelt there, forehead pressed to the floor, eyes shut, trying to slow his wildly thumping heart and calm his rebellious stomach, and then the ability to think rationally caught up with physical sensation. 

He was on his hands and knees, which meant the rope was gone. And not only that... The uncompromisingly snug fit of denim around his thighs was unmistakable, as was the weight of his house keys in his front pocket. Hope rising, he scratched his fingertips into the floor, pulse thumping as his nails snagged against honest-to-god synthetic fibre carpet. 

Was he home? Had it all been a dream? 

Eyes still screwed shut, Ichigo inhaled deeply, desperately hoping to catch a trace of Yuzu's cooking or even the acrid chemical scent of embalming fluid from the old man's workshop. 

Instead, his nose filled with a stink that would never fade no matter how much time passed, the one that had haunted his nights and his days for years piled on top of years; the scent of the pollution-tainted mud that lined the banks of the Karasu River.

Memory rushed back. Rain falling on his face, stinging at his eyes. Chilled cramped fingers tangled in limp strands of hair. The mud sucking him down, clinging and foul and everywhere. 

"Mom?" he whispered into the floor, fighting back bile in his throat. "Momma?" mouthed against knuckles pressing lips into teeth until he tasted blood. 

Her weight pressed against his chest, crushing him flat and making it hard to breathe. His legs were numb and he couldn't feel his toes. If he opened his eyes he was going to see her. See her pale cheek beside his own, her eyes open and empty, her body so still, and when he touched her he would know, the knowledge would sink into him, as cold and relentless as the rain. Dead. She was dead. 

His mom was dead. 

And had died ten years ago. Not now. Not yesterday. Ten years ago. This was just a flashback.

Slowly and deliberately, Ichigo reassembled himself from the fractured pieces. It wasn't easy and it took time. Minutes past but eventually, deliberately breathing through his mouth, he forced himself to open his eyes, sit up and take a look around. Thankfully what he found was nothing like the river bank at all.

He was in an office. An empty office with a blue nylon carpet, white partition walls, and huge windows that stretched almost the entire length of one wall. The glass was opaque from the weight of water falling outside. He could hear it, rushing down the building like the sound of the river and that, combined with the odd musty dampness of abandoned building, must have been what had set off his episode. Damn it, he thought as he staggered to his feet, arms wrapped around himself, he hadn't had one that bad for years. It was probably stress. The past twenty four hours had sucked like that. Which raised the question, where the hell was he? And how had he got here. It sure as hell wasn't Soul Society.

And it sure as hell wasn't Karakura either, he thought when he reached the window and managed to peer through the water sheeting down the glass. Below, where there should have been a street with cars and traffic lights and pedestrians, there was a river. A river that was rising, faster than an real river possibly could. Tsunami? It didn't matter. In the few seconds Ichigo had been watching, another floor of the building opposite had vanished under brown swirling rapids. If it kept rising at the same rate, he had about three minutes before it reached this one. 

The door into the corridor opened easily. Ichigo hesitated for a split second then picked a direction and took off running, slapping doors open as he passed by trying to find the stairs. They had to be there somewhere.

He almost missed them in his haste, having to double back and nearly getting smacked in the face by the door rebounding off the wall. He caught it, pushed through and leapt for the stairs, taking them three at a time. High ground, that was what he needed. The higher, the better.

He ran out of breath before he ran out of stairs. The last couple of floors were taken at a trot, his hand pressed to the stitch under his ribs as his breath heaved in and out, but finally he reached the roof. Now only one door stood between him and potential safety. He fell against the emergency bar with a groan of relief, expecting to explode out onto the roof, only to bounce off the door with a pained grunt. 

It was jammed? Ichigo stared at in disbelief. How could it be jammed?

He gave it a kick, missed the bar, backed up and tried again, slamming the heel of his boot – and fuck was he ever glad he was wearing those – into the thing. It stubbornly failed to budge. Another and another. Five more later and even Ichigo had to admit that it wasn't going to shift. Perhaps there was another roof exit?

He leapt back down the stairs, sprinted the length of the corridor to where a second set of stairs might be if the building had them, only to find a bank of elevators. He smacked his hand against the call button in disgust and turned on his heel. Behind him came a grinding noise, followed by a whoosh, then sparks flew and the lights flickered. Ichigo turned to look and the elevator doors opened, spewing water into the corridor like the mouth of a drunk after a really really bad night.

"Fucking crap!" he bellowed and ran for the roof stairs. Okay it was only one more floor, but it was better than standing and waiting to drown and it was possible the water might slow once the levels had stabilised. It was probably some sort of stupid physics thing that had sucked more of it up than was supposed to be there. 

He made it to the stairs and sure enough the water slooshed up to the bottom step and stopped, washing back and forth like waves at the beach on a calm day. Ichigo heaved a sigh of relief, and then backed up when the next wave washed onto the second step. It hadn't stopped, just slowed down. Which meant he really really needed to get through that door onto the roof. There had to be some way of getting away if he could get up that far. Maybe rescue workers with helicopters, or a pylon or something, fuck!

The door still wouldn't shift. Ichigo thumped it until his hands bled and kicked it until he couldn't feel the bottoms of his feet and it moved not one inch. Finally he threw himself against it, spun round and slid to the floor. The water had reached halfway up the final set of stairs and he was trapped. Couldn't go up, couldn't go down. He was going to drown like a rat in a sinking ship. What stupid shitty pointless way to die.

 _Why do you want to live?_ A voice rumbled through the space, or maybe just through Ichigo's head. He wasn't sure at this point. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart.

"What the fuck do you mean, 'Why do I want to live'?" he yelled up at the ceiling. He couldn't see any speakers, but if by some fluke it was some moron on a public address system, he probably ought to at least try. "Don't ask stupid questions, idiot! 'Cause I don't wanna die!" Because he had to get back to Soul Society and save Karin and Yuzu and his dad. Get everyone safe and home.

_So why have you stopped? If you want to live, you must keep moving forwards. Looking back contains only death._

Water sloshed over the top step. Ichigo stared at it, transfixed, then pushed himself back up the door, elbows crawling him over the emergency exit bar. "If the freaking door would open, I would," he muttered. Damn it, the voice was right. He couldn't give up.

The water reached as far as his boots. The pace had increased again, Ichigo realised as it covered his toes and began making inroads on his ankles. "Fine," he shouted at the ceiling again, "No going back, I get it. Fancy giving me half a clue as to how I go forwards?"

 _Open the door,_ the voice said without a hint of irony.

"I tried that!"

_You tried to open the bar._

Of course he'd tried to open the bar. Opening the bar meant opening the door. Except if he took the bar out of the equation... 

Ichigo spun on the spot and stared at the door. It was a standard steel fire door. Bar across the middle. Plastic exit sign. Nothing unusual or out of place. It even had a handle with an old fashioned lock above it just visible in the gloom of the greenish emergency lighting.

A lock.

And Ichigo had a bunch of keys in his pocket. 

"Fucking crapping shit," he snarled, digging them out and holding them up to peer at them. Despite his assumption that they were his door keys, not a single one of them looked familiar. One was an old fashioned brass key with ornate twirly bits on it, another was a standard Miwa key that was rusted up to hell – he tried that one. It didn't work. The third was one of the ones with a cylindrical pointy bit, like the type that opened his locker at school. The last thing on the chain was a neat little penknife fob. 

That was it. He was out of keys, and out of options.

Ichigo sagged, the key-chain rattling against his knuckles as his arms dropped to his sides. So much for that idea. The water, which had slowed almost to a stop while he was fiddling with the keys, started rising again, faster than before. It was up to his knees in no time flat, the swirl and rush of it tugging at his jeans.

 _The door, Ichigo. Open the door!_

Even the voice was starting to sound worried. Ichigo knew how it felt. "I tried that!" he said. "The keys don't fit!"

 _There is no key to this door,_ the voice said. _You must use me to break it down._

Oh, now there was cryptic. Ichigo threw his hands up in disgust. "Who the fuck do you think you are, Kuchiki fucking..." A thought filtered through his incipient panic, distracting his words into silence.

It couldn't be that easy. Fumbling a little in his haste, Ichigo spread the keys out in his hands and took another look at the fob. Not a penknife; scaled up it'd be a carving knife. Like the one that had appeared behind him when he was asleep back in Soul Society. 

Feeling a bit stupid, he unhooked it from the chain, slipped the rest of the keys back into his pocket, and held the miniature sword in his hand. "Okay," he said. "Now what."

_Call my name, Ichigo._

"Which is what?" The water had reached mid-thigh and was still rising. Ichigo was trying really hard not to panic. 

_You already know._

His waist. The swell of the current lifted him off his feet. Ichigo grabbed hold of the door bar to steady himself. "If I knew that then I wouldn't be asking!"

_If you need to ask, it's because you've not stopped looking back._

Looking back! What the hell was the guy talking about? He wasn't looking back, he was looking forwards, straight at the door and into the future. If he could just get through that then maybe he could get away from this fucked up world and back home... and holy crap, he _was_ still looking backwards. Still thinking like he was alive. 

The flood reached his chest. Even clinging to the door, Ichigo had to tread water. It didn't stop him thinking furiously. Despite everything, he didn't really believe that what had happened was real. His first reaction when he'd arrived here and realised he was wearing jeans was to assume that Soul Society was all a dream. 

As the water nudged his chin, he had to let go of the door. The current carried him backwards and then forwards again, the low ceiling was now less than a foot above his head.

But Soul Society wasn't a dream. It was real. Ichigo had seen his body, and Karin's and Yuzu's. And his dad's, though they'd said that was a fake. Because his dad wasn't human. His dad came from Soul Society. Because he was a shinigami. 

And if he was a shinigami, then it stood to reason that Ichigo could be one too.

The water closed over Ichigo's head and yet he felt no need to struggle. If he was a shinigami, then he had control over life and death. And the means of that control was in his hands. His sword. His zanpakutō. Which was called...

"Zangetsu!"

The world swirled like water going down a drain, sucking Ichigo with it, and when he popped out the other side, the first thing he saw was someone swinging a sword at him.

He responded automatically. Blades clashed, the power of the blow reverberating through Ichigo's shoulders, his muscles tensing to perfectly deflect and absorb the energy. It didn't make sense. Apart from a bit of kendo he'd picked up from a sensei who'd filled in at the dojo for a few months, Ichigo had never really handled a sword. All he knew was what he'd watched on the telly and if that was as accurate as the other martial arts stuff he'd seen, then it was crap. Even so, his body seemed to know what to do. 

With a sidewards sweep, he pushed Renji's blade to one side and followed the movement round into an overhead swing that should have cut the guy in half – if Renji'd still been there. Lacking an impact to slow the blow down, Ichigo found himself over-extended and off-balance. Before he could correct it, an arm like an iron bar clamped around his throat hauling him back against the solid shape of a body and the point of a sword pushed up against his sternum.

"Drop the sword," Renji growled in his ear.

Ichigo had hardly even known he was fighting in the first place. He'd gone from immersed in filthy cold water to being completely on the defensive in the middle of a sword fight. 

Had he attacked Renji first, or was it the other way round? "You started it," he replied, deciding to bluff and still holding tight to Zangetsu. And didn't that just beat everything. His sword had a name. He was like one of those heroes in manga and video games.

"I don't care who fucking started it! Drop it! Now!"

If Captain Kuchiki hadn't killed him last night then it was pretty unlikely that Renji would kill him now. Plus, Ichigo thought, I still owe the bastard for earlier. 

A shimmy, a stamp on the instep and a fast elbow jab got him free of Renji's grip. Ichigo danced across the room, hopping over the bed, and spun round, Zangetsu at the ready once again. He was grinning, he knew he was, but he couldn't help it. He felt great, better than he had since these bastards had come ploughing into his house and killed him. He wasn't on a level with them yet, but he was growing, he could feel it. They were within touching distance and sooner or later he would close the gap between them.

Renji stared back at him with narrowed eyes across heaped pillows and quilts, one palm rubbing his belly where Ichigo's elbow had caught him. Then he grinned wolfishly, moved his hand down so that both gripped his sword and said, "Right, you little shit, it's on!"

That was all the warning Ichigo got. The next couple of minutes were a whirl of blocks and pushes, blades clashing, shoulders straining and bodies sliding against each other. 

The amazing thing was, despite the fact that neither of them had agreed to it beforehand, none of it was serious. Ichigo had known that he wasn't, but he hadn't been sure of Renji. Then Ichigo had left an opening. If Renji had wanted to, he could have laid Ichigo out and Ichigo knew it, they both knew it. But instead of landing a punch to the side of Ichigo's head, Renji had used his open hand. It still made Ichigo's ears ring and it hurt like a son of a bitch, but it didn't stop them fighting.

After that, the blows came from both sides. Slaps, pokes, the flat edges of their swords, anywhere an opening was spotted, one of them got in a tap. If they'd been counting coup, Renji would have been ahead by a mile with at least two to every one of Ichigo's, but he was improving, he could feel it. Plus, Ichigo comforted himself, he was the one to smack Renji round the head with a pillow and cover him with feathers, and so he won the cool moves competition hands down. 

They'd probably have kept going for hours if Renji's eyes hadn't suddenly widened. Half a heartbeat later and he was back behind Ichigo, arm round his throat again. A sharp pinch to Ichigo's wrist and Zangetsu tumbled from his grasp, proving just how easy it would have been for Renji to win all along. 

When Ichigo curled his lip and began to protest, Renji gave him a little shake and said quietly, "Taichō's coming. Ya wanna end up in trouble with him again?"

Ichigo really didn't; he was still smarting from the last time. But before he could comment either way, the door slid back and Kuchiki walked in, his nose buried in the sheaf of papers he was paging through. Dressed in layered kimono in black, pink and a deep rich blue, and with his sword through his obi, he looked like he'd just walked off the set of an historical drama.

"Renji," he was saying, "half of these bids are nugatory and can be dismissed. The more serious ones can be reduced to more manageable..." The captain's words trailed off as he looked up. The documents in his hands dipped, his eyes widened slightly and his gaze flicked from Ichigo to Zangetsu, then around the room at the scattered and leaking pillows and the trampled quilts, before returning to rest on Renji. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked.

Ichigo could feel the way Renji's body stiffened at the question. "He was like this when I got here, taichō, and when I tried to restrain him, he resisted."

"I see." He didn't sound convinced. "And the shihakushō?"

"I'm guessing its like his zanpakutō." Renji coughed a laugh. "Maybe we can assign him to the quartermaster's office and he can manifest uniforms for the rest of the division. It'd save us a few kan."

The attempt at a joke fell flat. Ignoring him, Kuchiki came closer, eyes now fixed on Ichigo, examining him closely from head to toe. Ichigo hadn't really noticed that he was wearing a uniform like Renji's. He'd got used to clothing again in that other place and hadn't registered the change of style what with the sword fight taking all his attention when he got back. Now, though, he was ultra-conscious of it and when the captain reached out and rubbed the cloth between his fingers, Ichigo flinched, thumping into Renji who was still holding him fast. 

Kuchiki glanced up at his reaction, meeting Ichigo's eyes for the first time since he'd entered the room. And didn't look away. For long long moments, their eyes held. Ichigo could feel his pulse starting to race, his palms getting damp – and not from fear. He wasn't scared of the guy. He wasn't! 

Then Kuchiki removed his hand. "Let him go," he said, turning away and presenting his undefended back to Ichigo. 

Renji seemed to hesitate for a brief second and then his grasp loosened and he took a step back, letting Ichigo go free. The temptation to dive for Zangetsu and plunge it through Kuchiki's chest the same way the shinigami had done it to him was almost overwhelming. Ichigo grabbed a hold of the feeling and shoved it as far inside himself as he could. One day, he promised, one day he would get his revenge, but not today. Not now. 

Because if Ichigo was going to accept his existence as a shinigami, he couldn't do it alone. He knew nothing about Soul Society, about how it worked or who he could trust, or even what these people could do. If he was going to survive, he needed help, or as Captain Kuchiki had so eloquently put it, he was going to be destroyed. And so were his sisters. And, since Renji and Kuchiki were the only shinigami he knew and neither of them had actually killed him despite a hell of a lot of provocation, theirs were the names in the frame.

Except Ichigo had no idea how to go about getting their help. No, that wasn't true. He knew how to get Renji's, that was easy. Renji was all surface rapids and Ichigo understood that. Kuchiki on the other hand was more like an unfathomably deep lake. And what hid below its deceptively calm surface was a mystery. But Ichigo had managed to glean one thing during their interactions; the captain demanded respect.

Mustering up the few manners Tatsuki had kicked into him at the dojo and channelling all the occasions his dad had dragged him round to neighbours to apologise for miss-kicked footballs, Ichigo fisted his hands and dipped a respectful bow. "Kuchiki-taichō," he said, glowering at his feet, "Please accept my apologies. My behaviour while a guest in your home has been inexcusable."

Silence. 

Ichigo kept his head down for a second or two, then ran out of patience and peered up through his bangs to find out what was going on. Kuchiki was staring at him, face entirely expressionless. It was really freaking annoying how the guy did that, Ichigo decided. It made him impossible to second guess. 

"Renji?" Kuchiki said, long moments later.

"Looks real to me, taichō," Renji replied. "Course it looked real to me last night too."

Ichigo winced. Yeah, maybe Renji had owed him the girl with chamber pot, after all. Calling it even between them at this point might be the wisest option. As was honesty, probably. "It was," Ichigo said, abandoning his bow and glancing over his shoulder at Renji. "Kind of, anyway. You didn't do anything I wasn't into."

He got an acknowledging nod for that, and returned it, glad that the subject was closed. If he disregarded the fact that he'd let Ichigo be killed, Renji wasn't such a bad sort. Just over-protective of his captain.

Speaking of... Ichigo turned his attention back to Kuchiki, who was still regarding him flatly. Ichigo returned the look with as much nonchalance as he could muster and took the opportunity to really study the guy. Dressed in those heavy silks and backlit by the diffuse daylight through the shoji, he looked more like a museum exhibit than a person, too perfect to be real. 

How old was he anyway? According to Renji, he was the head of his clan but he didn't look much older than 25. Maybe he'd been some kind of child prodigy. Yeah, Ichigo could see that. It'd explain why he was about as sociable as a feral cat. Probably hadn't been allowed to mix with kids his own age or something. Kinda sad really, looked at in that way. Ichigo decided to cut him a break.

"Y'know, even though we got off on the wrong foot, I reckon if you loosen up a bit, there's no reason we can't still be friends."

A sound like a smothered cough came from behind him. Kuchiki's expression didn't falter for a second, though Ichigo noted the papers in his hands rustled very slightly. Then Kuchiki said, "And this, 'being friends' is important to you?"

Ichigo thought about Chad and Tatsuki, Keigo and Mizuiro. Even his cousin Uryū when he'd still been around. "Yeah," he said finally and unequivocally. "Friends are the most important thing there is after family. Without friends, you're alone, and no one can live that way for long."

Again Kuchiki stared, though this time Ichigo got a sense of furious thinking going on behind those impassive grey eyes. Then, without saying a word, the captain turned and walked away, his feet carrying him silently towards the door. Just as Ichigo thought it was over, that he might as well not have bothered speaking at all, Kuchiki stopped. With his back to the room still, he said in a clear though quiet voice, "There was a time I thought the same way myself. We shall see, Kurosaki Ichigo, which of us has the right of it." 

And then he was gone.

For a moment neither Ichigo nor Renji stirred, then Renji yelped, "Taichō!" and shot from the room, only to reappear a second later in the doorway to point his finger at Ichigo and growl, "Don't you move!" before vanishing again.

Ichigo waved a hand after him. He wasn't going to go anywhere, he wasn't that stupid. Now he'd made up his mind to co-operate, the best place he could be was here. 

After retrieving Zangetsu, checking the blade was okay and laying it on the bed, he began picking up the bedding he and Renji had trashed. The split pillows he placed carefully to one side so they didn't leak any more feathers, and the whole ones he tossed back on the bed along with the quilts. He'd have made it up except Yuzu's lessons in housekeeping had never included bed-making Edo style. 

When he discovered the pale blue pillow which he'd slept on at the bottom of the bed, it occurred to Ichigo that, not only had he acquired a uniform thanks to his trip to that other place, he'd also managed to lose the rope. Standing there, squishing the pillow between his fingers, he wondered if maybe that was a one off, or would it be a regular thing? If it was, it'd be really useful. Maybe he could start his own escapology act. He was busy thinking up possible stage names when Renji reappeared looking a bit frazzled and leaned on the doorpost, glaring at Ichigo. 

"What are you doing?" he asked, frowning at the pillow that Ichigo suddenly realised he'd managed to reshape into something resembling an onigiri.

"Nothing," Ichigo said, shoving it behind his back. "What's happening?"

Renji's face cleared and he stood up straight. "You are going to the 13th," he announced. "Taichō's got business and he needs me with him. We can't leave you here, so we're gonna leave you there instead." 

The 'you might run off/try to kill someone/mortally insult an important person' went unsaid but mutely acknowledged by both parties. Whatever. Ichigo wasn't about to complain. His sisters were at the 13th and Ichigo was desperate to see them. "Now?" he asked.

"Soon," Renji confirmed, "but first, taichō says you have to lose the shihakushō. And the zanpakutō'll have to stay here too."

The sword Ichigo understood. He didn't like it; the idea of leaving his zanpakutō lying around where anyone could handle it felt a bit like leaving his underwear on the floor, but he could understand why he couldn't be allowed to wander around with it. The uniform on the other hand...

"I am not visiting my sisters in the freaking buff!" 

A wicked grin lit Renji's face. "Yosh," he said, wiggling his fingers in the sign for money. "Taichō owes me a thousand kan. He reckoned you'd never fall for it."

"Bastard," Ichigo grumbled, without much heat. As jokes went it was more sophisticated than most of Keigo's attempts. A pile of white cloth smacked him in the face and he flailed a moment before letting it drop to the bed in front of him. "What's this?

"That," Renji said, sauntering into the room, "is what you're wearing instead."

"Looks more suited to a sleepover," Ichigo replied holding up the lightweight cotton yukata. "Tell me this has pants."

Renji pointed at the bed. Ichigo picked up a long length of cloth and gave Renji an incredulous look. "You're kidding right?"

"What? There's nothing wrong with fundoshi and a yukata."

"I guess. If you're eighty and visiting an onsen." Ichigo shook his head. Getting mad wouldn't help. Boxer-briefs probably didn't even exist in Soul Society. "At least give me some hakama."

Renji gave him a sceptical look then sighed, "Okay, I guess that wouldn't hurt." He waved a hand at the clothing. "Get changed, I'll go see what I can find."

Left alone, Ichigo began to undress, a task that proved way more complicated in the practice than it sounded. The first problem he hit was the rope. It went over one shoulder and around his chest and, when he slipped it off and held it between his hands, he realised it looked familiar. The colour, pale purple shot through with silver-white threads, was identical to the one Kuchiki had used the night before to tie him up, but now it was thickly braided and less than half the length. Hadn't one of them said the original was tangled up with the wrappings on his sword?

Ichigo cast a considering look at Zangetsu. The naked blade rested against the pile of pillows and Ichigo felt a sudden pang of guilt. Both Renji and Kuchiki's swords had sheaths. Zangetsu should have one too, but how would he find one to fit? It was such an odd shape with that broad curved blade and plain hilt wrapped in strips of white cloth. With a frustrated huff he tossed the rope on top of the sword and set about disassembling the rest of his uniform.

By the time Renji returned, Ichigo had the yukata draped over his shoulders and had fought the fundoshi to a standstill, though he wasn't quite sure who'd won. He didn't care when Renji tossed him a pair of narrow legged pants the same pale blue as the pillow he'd been cuddling earlier.

"That was all I could find," Renji said. "They're a bit girlie but I guessed you prefer those over nothing."

"They're fine," Ichigo replied, dragging them on and stringing the ties together. They didn't reach his ankles but with his legs covered, he felt more human... more shinigami... whatever. 

Once he'd tied everything off and put on his tabi, he looked up at Renji, who nodded his approval and said, "Right then, let's go."

Journeying across Seireitei, Ichigo discovered, mostly involved hanging onto Renji and being dragged around at top speed. Shunpo, Renji called it. The perfect recipe for puking his guts up sounded more accurate to Ichigo. 

What he hadn't realised during the short walk through the Kuchiki estate last night, was just how big Seireitei was. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd compared it to Karakura Town. The reality was more like size of Tokyo and without cars or bikes, shunpo really was the only way of getting around in a sensible time frame. According to Renji, it was one of the first skills a seated officer was taught and he even promised Ichigo lessons when he had time. Ichigo was looking forward to it. Life as hand luggage had little to recommend it.

Their first stop was 6th division headquarters to pick up an escort and then it was on to the 13th. To Ichigo, the two places looked pretty similar, both being sprawling complexes of low level buildings, gardens and exercise yards enclosed behind a high wall. In fact all of Seireitei was like that, made of wood and stone and old-fashioned looking screens. There wasn't a concrete façade to be seen. It reminded Ichigo of a movie set. He kept having the urge to look around for the cameras. 

The one major difference between the two barracks was the guards on the walls. Renji had explained that the 6th was protected with kidō. Anyone trying to hop in over the walls there would get a nasty shock. If the 13th used the same thing, then they'd opted to have guards alongside it. Maybe as a visual deterrent, Ichigo thought. They certainly looked impressive enough. Stationed about every twenty feet, they punctuated the walls like living castellations. 

It wasn't until they were inside the 13th and halfway up the steps to the main building that Ichigo realised what had struck him as being so odd. Every last one of the guards had been facing in over the compound not out. As if there was something inside they had to stop from escaping.

Before Ichigo could say anything to Renji, the big doors ahead of them flew open and a familiar figure thundered down the steps and leapt at him, legs around his hips and head tucking in just beneath his chin. "Onii-chan," she sobbed into his chest, "I stayed awake all night waiting! Where were you?"

Oh crap. "I'm sorry, Yuzu," he said, hugging her back and dipping to nuzzle her hair, his eyes closing as he inhaled her scent. She smelled real, like home and love. "I would have been here if I could. I suck so bad."

She sniffed and dropped to the floor, gazing up at him through red puffy eyes, all hurt and fear and relief at seeing him again. She must have been crying for hours to look that bad. How much did she know, Ichigo wondered? Had anyone said anything?

"I told you if nii-chan coulda been here he would have." It was Karin. She was lurking in the doorway, arms folded defensively, shooting suspicious glares at Renji and their escort as she spoke. Both the girls were wearing outfits similar to Ichigo's. He wondered briefly if it had some kind of significance. Knowing his luck it was the equivalent of a prison uniform. He probably should have asked before putting it on but he'd been too desperate to see his sisters. 

He held out an arm for Karin and she sloped towards him, still watching the others warily. "They won't bite," Ichigo assured her. "Not the big guy, anyway. I've been staying at his place like you two stayed here. They looking after you okay?"

Karin shrugged and slid under his arm, pressing up against his side in a way that suggested she was doing it for his sake, not hers. Ichigo didn't care. She was safe. He tightened his arm, hugging her close. She was taller than Yuzu now. When had that happened?

"I guess," she said, wriggling until he loosened his grip, though she didn't move away when he did, Ichigo noted. "Beds were hard and the food was odd, but it was okay."

Food, now there was a thought. As if spurred into action by the mere mention of it, Ichigo's stomach gave an almighty rumble. Yuzu grabbed his arms and shoved him backwards, staring at him in horror. "That's...that's missed meal belly," she said, and then, eyes narrowing, added, "Ichi-nii didn't eat breakfast this morning!"

"Missed meal belly?" Renji hooted, reaching out and ruffling Yuzu's hair. "Hey, kid, you've got one hell of a way with words, anyone ever tell you that?" Yuzu flinched away from his touch.

"Lay off, Abarai," Ichigo retorted, as mad at him for ruining Yuzu's attempt at normality as for laughing at her. "Ignore him, Yuzu, he's just being an ass. He's the one who never fed me."

As Ichigo had hoped, that brought the pissed expression back to Yuzu's face and along with it came the fists of doom, firmly planted on her hips. "What kind of a terrible host are you, letting a guest go hungry like that?" she scolded, turning the full power of her feminine-righteousness on Renji. 

"I didn't exactly have much chance ta-" he began, edging backwards and regarding Yuzu apprehensively. It was like seeing a large dog being seen off by a spitting kitten. 

Ichigo smirked, sensing payback, and jumped in. "And he made me sleep on the floor." He shot a challenging look at Renji. Go on, he thought, tell her why. Tell this naïve kid why her big brother spent the night on the floor and didn't get breakfast, if you dare.

Between one breath and the next, Renji caved spectacularly. The fight went out of him like the air from a balloon. He cast Ichigo a defeated look and said, "Fine, you win. Canteen breakfast for three. My treat."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. Now that bids have opened, the Shiba sisters must remain here. However you're more than welcome to have food brought in." 

Ichigo looked up to see a blond man in a shihakushō standing in the open doorway. He was slight and had the air of the perpetually abused about him, and yet still looked like he might be in charge. Was this the captain?

"Yo, Kira!" Renji said, his casual tone suggesting otherwise. He pushed past Ichigo on his way up the steps, a happy grin on his face, previous dolour apparently forgotten. "That mean the 13th'll pick up the tab?" 

Kira seemed to know Renji well, if the resignedly amused head shake was anything to go by. "Good morning, Abarai-fukutaichō, and yes, I suppose so, so long as you promise to restrict yourself to only three servings this time."

"Good as it sounds, not for me, not this morning," Renji replied squinting up at the sky. "Taichō needs me. I'm just dropping this one off for visiting hours." 

He jerked a thumb at Ichigo who, remembering his resolution to be polite to anyone he didn't know, dipped a shallow bow to Kira and said, "Kurosaki Ichigo. Pleased to meet you, Kira-san."

The smile that graced Kira's face made the effort worthwhile. He returned the bow and said, "Kira Izuru, 4th division third seat temporarily assigned here at the 13th. Welcome to Soul Society, Kurosaki-san."

No sooner was the exchange over than Renji smacked Kira on the back. "Since you two seem to be bestest pals already, I'm off," he said, turning to go. Then he paused; "Ah, yeah, almost forgot - Kira, you got any spare mods? We've got a shortfall and with bids opened up, now's really not a good time, you know."

Apparently Kira did. He led the way inside into a painfully neat tiny office where he and Renji began what looked like an intense negotiating session. Arms around his sisters, Ichigo watched them, mulling their conversation over in his mind.

It was that word again. Bids. That was the third time he'd heard it spoken today in connection with him and his sisters. And he'd heard it before too, when Captain Kuchiki had been 'explaining things' last night. Did they mean like an auction? Ichigo'd had a sense that something was brewing, an imminent threat that everyone else knew about except him. Could that be the answer? 

If it was, it made sense of why Kuchiki thought he could keep them safe. The guy was obviously loaded, though why he'd bother saving them when he'd been the one to kill them in the first place, Ichigo didn't know. He was pretty sure it wasn't just for a fuck. Kuchiki had Renji for that. 

Did he really want him as a student as Renji had originally suggested? It seemed far-fetched to Ichigo. He wasn't anything special, no genius or prodigy. But he was a Shiba, which, according to Renji, made him an aristocrat in Soul Society. Just like the captain. 

An odd sort of logic presented itself to Ichigo's mind. Aristocratic families tended to intermarry. What if Kuchiki was related? Not closely, unless he was a hell of lot kinkier than Ichigo thought, but by marriage maybe? Now that made a whole lot of sense. Wanting to protect your family, even if it was in a stupid roundabout way, was something Ichigo completely understood. 

Something that had been twisted anxiously inside him uncurled. Ichigo might have already decided to trust the captain but it had been a decision based on gut instinct and there'd always been the possibility he'd been wrong. Now, here, in the heart of the 13th division with his sisters safe in his arms and an inkling about why this shit was happening the way it was, he knew he'd made the right decision. Which didn't mean he was ready to forgive Kuchiki just yet. The man had still destroyed his life and truthfully, Ichigo thought, depending what the future held, it was entirely possible he never would.


	4. Pilgrim's Progress (Not Negotiation)

Why was it that whenever his life became overly complicated, there were always Shiba involved?

Byakuya pressed thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose and did his best to ignore the appalling spectacle of his visitors having a screaming altercation in front of him. Unfortunately, despite the volume, neither of them had yet thrown a punch in _his_ direction, which meant resorting to bakudō would be a social faux pas of unforgivable proportions. It was testament to just how frazzled his nerves were becoming that Byakuya was seriously considering using it anyway.

As the titular head of the almost defunct Shiba clan, it would have been hoped that Kūkaku would have held herself above such antics. Sadly that was not to be. Currently she had her ridiculous brother pinned to the tatami whilst she subjected both him and her husband to the type of verbal tongue-lashing usually only heard dockside in some of the higher districts of Rukongai. Her buffoon of a husband, not to be outdone, was loudly bewailing whatever fates had seen fit to give him such a wife. Byakuya could empathise, with the sentiment, at least.

It was, so bruit had it, a marriage of convenience. Byakuya had to believe that was true; the headstrong and opinionated Shiba Kūkaku he had known as a child would never have lowered herself to speak to Marechiyo, whatever wealth his family may have held. But in the wake of Isshin's disgrace and the sanctions Central 46 had imposed for his crimes, the Shiba clan had all but collapsed. Left with little choice, Kaien and his sister had agreed that she would marry into the Ōmaeda and use their expertise to address the Shiba's failing finances, while he stayed in the Gotei 13 and attempted to rebuild the clan's name. 

It was a logical division of duties which Byakuya entirely endorsed. In spite of Isshin's insults to the Kuchiki, he had no real desire to see the Shiba vanish. If for no other reason than the Ōmaeda might actually manage to purchase themselves a seat amongst the highest ranks should one become available. An actuality that was disturbing enough to give Byakuya sleepless nights. 

With Kaien's death a decade or so later, the plan descended into shambles. Kūkaku suddenly found herself in the impossible position of having a clan with only a single male member left alive, and that a boy of dubious intelligence and tender years. She had, in her own way Byakuya knew, attempted to redress Ganju's shortcomings to prepare him for a possible role amongst the nobility of the Seireitei, but to all intents and purposes, the Shiba clan was dead - until Isshin had been found. 

Or more importantly Isshin's children. In those three young scions of the Shiba line lived the very real chance to rebuild the family; the boy to inherit the title and what little property was left, while his sisters were married advantageously to consolidate power and bring their husbands into the clan to bolster numbers. Kūkaku had obviously seen that as immediately as Byakuya since her demand for an audience had arrived even before the messenger from Central 46. He had granted it, of course. He and Kūkaku had been friends for many years before they were recast on opposing sides.

Unfortunately meeting with Kūkaku also meant meeting with her husband who, according to Seireitei custom, had the same rights of involvement in his wife's affairs as she did in his. Ganju's presence had come as an added and unwelcome surprise.

Which brought them to here, the main reception room of the Kuchiki manor and an altercation which was still going strong. Husband and wife were still shouting at each other, faces barely an inch apart, while Ganju – Ah. Cyanotic was definitely not his colour.

"Order!" Byakuya bellowed, the sheer novelty of him raising his voice enough to silence both squabbling parties. When twin pairs of eyes shot round to stare at him, he simply pointed, leaving them to resolve the problem. Needless to say, Ganju was quickly extracted from beneath his stepfather's obese frame and was soon looking a much healthier colour.

Blame for the incident immediately became a subject for another argument, but before it could escalate into a new shouting match, Byakuya interjected, "What is the absolute minimum required to bring this discussion to a satisfactory close?"

Marechiyo opened his mouth to speak, only to be straight-armed in the nose by his wife. While he was squealing like the pig he was, Kūkaku said, "A chance."

"On the boy?" Byakuya asked doubtfully. 

Kūkaku nodded and when Ganju made a strangled sound, she shot an infuriated look at him. "He's yer cousin, ergo he's comes ahead of yer. Suck it up."

It was as Byakuya had feared; after so long in the shadows, Kūkaku was looking to re-establish her credentials in the minds of Seireitei at large. Bidding for Ichigo, even if she lost, would raise her profile enormously. However her prize was not going to be that easy. "I am told that the 2nd is preparing a serious bid on him," Byakuya said. "Thus you would be answering to them before myself."

A disgruntled grunt answered that one. "What about the girls?" 

Marechiyo, still dabbing at his nose with a gold trimmed handkerchief, said, "A new barracks or a specialist training ground might-"

"Fool!" Kūkaku walloped her fist into the top of his head. "You can't buy off Yoruichi! She's a Shihōin!"

"I believe Kurotsuchi has expressed an interest in Karin." It was a bit more than belief. According to Byakuya's sources, the vile creature was already preparing the dissection table. The mere thought was enough to make Byakuya want to reach for his zanpakutō immediately. "Yuzu, on the other hand, is generating little interest amongst the Gotei 13." There, that should be hint enough.

Kūkaku's eyes widened, then narrowed assessingly. "Names?"

Byakuya reeled off the five minor noble houses that instinct told him would make a play for the girl, the ones with unmarried boys and ambitions of advancement. When he reached the end, Kūkaku nodded and said, "What about the Ibuya?"

"Perhaps. Their son is betrothed, but the girl is still an infant and of a lower house so it may be annulled without too much inconvenience."

"Huh." A pensive silence filled the room as Kūkaku glared at the ground, obviously thinking through her options. Beside her, Marechiyo shifted uneasily, sweat beading his brow, his large hands worrying at his hakama. In the quiet atmosphere his breathing sounded like an animal's, hoarse and panting. He also smelt, of stale sweat and some sweet food. How Kūkaku could bear to be near the man, Byakuya didn't know. 

Finally Kūkaku looked up. "We'll bid on the girl. All the others'll be dealt with, on one condition." Byakuya dipped his chin, indicating she should proceed. "I'm not expecting to win, I know that, but give us an in with them, yeah? They're family. Ganju deserves to get to know 'em at least."

That was all she was asking? He'd been expecting at least a demand for a voice in any future entanglements. But all she wanted was a chance to get to know her cousins. For that, Byakuya could afford to be generous. "I shall make a special point of it," he said. "I promise. You are all Shiba."

Her smile was as wickedly lovely as he remembered. "Yeah, you're not so bad yourself. I'm setting the bid at two hundred and fifty thousand kan."

A generous dowry. Falling into the ritual of the words, Byakuya replied, "As Shiba Yuzu's right hand in this matter, I invoke the right of challenge." It would be so much easier to simply cover the bid, but honour would never allow it. 

Kūkaku quirked a grin at him. "So what's it to be then?"

"Sealed blades. Unless you have a shinigami in mind?"

Kūkaku shook her head. "Nah, I was thinking of letting Ganju take a crack at ya. He could do with the practice." Her thump to Ganju's back elicited a wailed, "Nee-sama!" that was quickly drowned out by Kūkaku's boisterous laughter. 

Byakuya waited until they had quieted again before saying, "Then shall we draw the bid up formally?"

"Why not. You got this, Marechiyo?" 

The big man nodded and produced a scroll and brush ready to make notes. 

Byakuya cast a quick glance at his steward, who was similarly equipped, before starting his recitation. "Given that a bid has been offered and rejected, one day from now, on the fifteenth day of the seventh month, starting at the second hour after dawn, and on the grounds of the central arena of Seireitei, I, Kuchiki Byakuya on behalf of my charge, will answer the challenge of Shiba Ganju, being that of single combat for right of possession over Shiba Yuzu. The weapon of choice being a sealed blade. The loser being the first to concede or incapable of fighting. Shiba Kūkaku, as bidder, do you affirm the details?" 

"I do," Kūkaku replied with a decisive nod.

"Bid lodged and noted." 

One round down, countless more to go, Byakuya thought, as he added his seal to the bottom of both documents. The next twenty four hours promised to be very long and altogether unpleasant.

*

Much as he trusted his men from the 6th, Byakuya was relieved to see Renji waiting at the end of the long western avenue leading up to the 3rd division barracks. In truth, if Kūkaku's claim had not been so paramount, this would have been his first port of call, since, after hers, perhaps only the 13th had a more valid claim on the children.

Sending Renji to the 13th to confirm Ukitake's stance under the cover of escorting Ichigo to see his sisters had been a calculated risk. If Ukitake had changed his mind overnight then Renji might have been delayed there for several hours, and every moment that passed was yet another that Ichimaru had at his disposal to concoct some ridiculous jape at Byakuya's expense. 

Still, he had no desire to enter that pit of vipers without backup, thus he would have waited for as long as it took for Renji to return. He greeted Renji with a nod and felt much of his tension melt away as his fukutaichō fell into step beside him. 

"Did you encounter any difficulties?" he asked, as they made their way past the towering persimmon trees that lined the route. 

"Nah, Kira says it's still all systems go. Oh, and he said to tell you that Kyōraku-taichō's not interested either, or rather he is but Nano and Lisa have put their foot down. Apparently three's a crowd. Who knew."

"Shunsui, if anyone would," Byakuya commented in passing, enjoying Renji's huff of laughter. "How is Ukitake this morning? He was a little distracted yesterday when I was there."

Renji grimaced, attempting to hide the expression by turning to check behind them. "I didn't see him. Apparently he invited the kids to eat at Ugendō last night but Kira's not gonna take the risk with Ichigo."

"A sensible decision," Byakuya agreed. "He does bear an uncommon resemblance to Kaien."

The entrance to the 3rd loomed ahead of them. Surreptitiously adjusting the fall of his haori, Byakuya heard Renji remind their escort to be on their guard and then they were passing under the gate. The 3rd division's grounds opened out before them, a scattering of single storey buildings flanking the large central structure which housed the offices. It was strange, Byakuya reflected as they crossed the main square, some of the fondest memories of his childhood were centred around this place and yet now there was only coldness.

The hooded figure of the 3rd's fukutaichō was waiting for them on the steps, her tiny size dwarfed by the front doors looming behind her. As they approached, she bowed deeply and said, "Kuchiki-taichō, Abarai-fukutaichō, welcome to the 3rd division. Ichimaru-taichō is expecting you."

"I just bet he is," Renji grumbled under his breath.

Byakuya flashed him a quelling look. Renji and Ichimaru invariably clashed every time they met, but today he needed Renji to be on his best behaviour. They were going into this already on the back foot, a position Byakuya loathed at the best of times, and rising to Ichimaru's bait would likely just compound the problem. 

The interior of the 3rd was dark and cool. Walking into it should have been a welcome respite from the oppressive midday heat outside, and yet the atmosphere in the building somehow conspired to be more dank cellar than refreshing shade. Byakuya shuddered as the damp chill settled into his bones, his every instinct warning him of danger. Dark shapes shifted at the edges of his vision, flitting amongst the shadows. Entering Ichimaru's office came as a relief.

The man in question was seated behind his desk. As Byakuya entered, he raised his head, his usual foxy smile inching marginally wider as he said, "Ah, roku bantai taichō, how nice to see ya. Tell me, what can the 3rd do for ya today?"

"I don't have time for your games," Byakuya replied, knowing that whatever he said, Ichimaru would endeavour to play them anyway. "I am only here to ask if you intend to bid for Isshin's children." As soon as the name left his lips, Byakuya knew he'd made a mistake. Despite his penchant for seeing others upset, there were very few things which really riled Ichimaru Gin and one of those was the name of his old captain. 

The smile lessened for a split second before returning more broadly and even less genuine than before. Ichimaru leaned back in his chair, the tips of his long bony fingers pressing against each other rhythmically. "Well now, I'm not so sure as I've made up my mind. Perhaps ya should sit down so we can have a chat about it. What d'you say, Bya-kun?"

Feeling Renji stiffen at the implied insult in the pet name, Byakuya laid a hand on his arm and tried for a rear-guard defence. "I am not here to reminisce, Ichimaru. If you would prefer to inform me of your decision later, that would be entirely acceptable. In the meantime, I should leave you to your duties."

Ichimaru did not take the hint. "Duty, now there's a harsh mistress to us all. Cracking 'er whip and expecting every last one ta jump. Not even givin' us the chance ta chew over old times, eh. Unless... " The expression of happy surprise on his face was completely fabricated and designed to be read that way. "Course, why didn't I think o' that before. Even a busy captain like yourself has to eat." 

He turned to his lieutenant. "Momo-chan. Why don't ya take the fukutaichō here and see what you can find us for lunch. Don't bother hurryin' back. We got plenty ta keep us busy."

"Taichō?" Renji said, his reluctance to leave palpable.

Ichimaru practically chirped his reassurances. "No need ta worry, Renji-kun, your taichō's safe with me."

Byakuya hesitated. Ironically, Ichimaru was right. Alone with just another captain and with his own guards outside the door, he was probably as safe as it was possible to be unless he were with Renji at the manor. For one captain to attack another without a formal challenge was tantamount to treason, as Ichimaru well knew. Even so, the idea of being alone with him did not sit comfortably. 

Byakuya found his hand drifting to the scars on his chest. He deliberately redirected the touch to Renji and used the solid substance of him to bolster his own wavering nerve. "Go, Renji," he said. "I will be fine. Ichimaru and I have much to discuss." To reinforce the statement, he took the seat opposite Ichimaru at the desk.

After shooting Ichimaru a filthy look and dipping a bow to Byakuya, Renji did as he was told. The door closed behind them and Byakuya found himself alone with Ichimaru for the first time in over half a century. And he couldn't think of a thing to say. 

Silence piled up as they stared at each other across the desk, and memories crowded in. Of two small boys with scabby knees racing each other through endless brightly-lit corridors and Isshin's booming laugh at their antics.

"You're looking kinda pale, Bya-kun," Ichimaru said finally. "Want me to call that boy o' yours back?"

Ah, there was the annoyance he needed to pull him around. "If you are referring to Abarai-fukutaichō, he's hardly 'my boy'," Byakuya replied coolly. "Now perhaps we can get down to business."

"That's not what I heard, but then I'm not all up on how you noble folks go about these things." Ichimaru's fingers danced across the desk top, flicking aside papers as though searching for something. Byakuya was reminded of a large, particularly revolting, spider. "Business ya said. I'm guessin' you're talking about the kiddies again, am I right?"

"There is little else that could persuade me into your company."

"Now now, no call to get insulting. Tell me, Kuchiki, ya think you're the right person ta be takin' care of Shiba-sama's legacy?"

Fury boiled along Byakuya's already frayed nerves. "He lost the right to that title-" he snapped and then clamped his mouth shut over the rest of it. 

Ichimaru's smile actually showed a gleam of teeth. "The night he killed ya pa, right? Oh, and ya uncle. And the half a dozen other hangers-on what got caught in the cross-fire." He tutted and shook his head. "Sure was a bad time for the Kuchiki back then. I heard it was touch and go for you for a while, an' all." His eyes slit open, pinning Byakuya to the seat. "Shinsō's got fond memories 'o that night, ya know. He reckons it's his proudest moment."

The zanpakutō's name pierced Byakuya's chest with the same ferocity as its blade had that night. He stumbled to his feet, entirely aware that he was out of control and yet unable to prevent it, fingers flying to Senbonzakura's hilt. Ichimaru's smile filled his vision and his only thought, his only desire, was to wipe the world clean of it. To expunge it from sight and memory, to remove it so completely that it would never haunt his dreams or his waking world ever again.

"Taichō!" Renji's voice sliced through the killing haze and Byakuya came to with Senbonzakura halfway from its sheath. He slammed it home, turned on his heel and stalked from the office, Renji jogging after him, a solid locus against the riotous backdrop of Ichimaru's laughter.

That had been too close. A moment later and he would have drawn his zanpakutō, and then it would have been him locked in the prison as well as Shiba Isshin. 

Had that been what Ichimaru was attempting to do? It would certainly have removed Byakuya from the game vis a vis the children. Without him to fight for them, Ichimaru would have a clear playing field. So what now? Would he put in a bid? 

Byakuya forced his fingers to control their trembling at the idea of facing Shinsō across the arena. Perhaps that had been Ichimaru's strategy? To remind Byakuya of that night and thus weaken him for the challenge. If so, then Byakuya would face his fear and consume it, let it strengthen him so he could consume Ichimaru in turn!

"Taichō! Taichō, ya need to tone it down!" Renji's urgent whisper penetrated Byakuya's thoughts and he realised he'd allowed his reiatsu to pulse out of control. Not enough to do damage but everyone in the vicinity would certainly know he was upset. He reined it in, finally taking stock of his surroundings and was somewhat surprised to discover they were now outside the entrance to the 3rd. 

Behind him, the heavy wooden gates closed with a hollow thud and Byakuya inhaled deeply. "Renji, if I ever suggest being left alone with that man again, you have my explicit permission to tell me that I am being an idiot." And with that, he stepped straight into shunpo. 

He returned to the manor, not trusting himself with enough control for division headquarters. The men would have to manage without him for the afternoon while he worked on releasing his fears and frustrations without resorting to violence. 

To that end, he took a light lunch in the aquatic gardens favoured by his mother, allowing the heavy perfume of lotus blossoms and the sound of water tumbling over rocks to soothe his frazzled nerves. Afterwards, lulled by the afternoon heat and with Renji a protective presence hovering nearby, he was able to briefly rest in his quarters and then indulge in some calligraphy to centre himself for the encounter to come. 

When he finally emerged, Renji met him with an understanding smile and a handful of letters.

"Good news from the 7th and the 1st," he said, handing over the two top sheets. "Both of them are officially pulling out."

No more than Byakuya had expected, though he was still relieved. He glanced at the documents, noting the proper wording and seals. "Where does that leave us?"

"Four definitely not interesteds, four probables, and five technically undecideds, though I'm guessing if Unohana-taichō wanted in, Kira would have said something."

Byakuya frowned. "You're probably right. Excluding the 4th and the 11th then, we are left with the 5th, 9th and 10th?"

"Yep. And they're gonna be difficult nuts to crack. You got any ideas?"

"A few, though the 2nd must be dealt with next. Yoruichi will become impossible otherwise."

They arrived at the Shihōin estate an hour before sunset. It was something of a tradition between himself and Yoruichi to appear at inconvenient times. For her that tended to mean when Byakuya was endeavouring to have a few private moments. He preferred the more civilised approach of turning up unannounced at mealtimes. If nothing else it was amusing to see her pout when she had to share her food.

Soifon met them at the doors to the mansion, her perpetual frown its usual distraction from her delicate features. Without it she would be three times the warrior, Byakuya always felt, since none would truly expect a vicious attack from such a fragile looking flower.

Following her through rooms that rivalled his own for refinement, Byakuya noticed Renji's eyes fixed on Soifon's slenderness in its form-fitting black bodysuit and, not for the first time, he wondered whether Renji ever hankered after a female lover of his own. The women they had shared had all been brought to their bed at Byakuya's instigation and they had been few and far between. As people close to him knew, Byakuya trusted only rarely and that grudgingly.

When Soifon left them at the final set of doors and went ahead to announce them, Byakuya leaned over and said, "She is fascinating, is she not."

Renji tore his eyes away from the door with some apparent effort and blinked at him a couple of times before saying, "Yeah, yeah, I guess she is." Then he shook his head slightly. "I was just wondering, taichō, where do you reckon she keeps her zanpakutō in that outfit?"

Distracted by the amusing comment, Byakuya found himself entering Yoruichi's lair a moment later with a somewhat lighter heart and smile playing around his lips. 

She greeted him with a wicked one of her own and an, "Is that a smile, Bya-bou? Life must be treating you better than I heard."

"And a good evening to you, bakeneko," he replied, immediately schooling his expression and eyeing the array of small tables decorously placed between the zabuton. Damn, he should have come for lunch, she was expecting them.

"Now is that any way to speak to your dearly betrothed," she laughed. 

"A technicality, nothing more," he reminded her dryly. Not that he needed to. Neither of them were ready to turn a childhood arrangement into anything other than what it was. And why should they. As it stood, it was remarkably convenient. She had her clan, Soifon and the 2nd, he had his, Renji and the 6th, yet knowledge of their formal engagement kept the rest of the nobles in Seireitei from hounding either of them for alliances. One day they would probably take the next step, if only to provide each other with heirs. But that could wait. They had time.

But that wasn't the purpose of this meeting. "Did you know your pet scientist has delusions of grandeur?" he said, taking the seat to the right of hers beside a pretty lacquered table. Renji moved to kneel in attendance, mirroring Soifon's position beside Yoruichi. "He actually had the temerity to suggest you might hand over one of the children to him for experimentation."

She snorted in a most unladylike way. "No, he didn't, because I didn't even know he'd snuck out. He conned Soifon into thinking I'd given him clearance and stole my hell butterfly." 

Ah, Byakuya thought, that explained why she hadn't attended the arrest herself. 

Servants began to file in, placing bowls of delicious looking food on the tables. Not standing on ceremony, he began to eat, indicating to Renji that he should help himself as well. It might go against custom but then Yoruichi was hardly the epitome of tradition herself. For a while the only sounds were those appreciative ones normally associated with the consumption of food. 

Then, after an appropriate time, Yoruichi took enough of a break to say, "Apparently he was hoping you might turn a blind eye if he caught you at the right moment, you know, considering the history between your families." She shook her head, eyes narrowing, and slurped loudly from her bowl of soup. "If he'd bothered to ask me, I could have told him; once he's made up his mind, Kuchiki Byakuya will not part with any of those kids without a fight, so you might as well give it up now." 

"Then can I assume that there will be no bid from the 2nd?" Byakuya replied. If there wasn't, it would be a relief. Yoruichi was right about him fighting for the children but he would much prefer not to have to face her. He might not win.

"Ah, the girls'd be a pain and what would I do with a teenage boy - " she pointed her chopsticks at him when he raised his eyebrows, "beyond the obvious. And anyway, it's too much work when they're that young." A carelessly waved hand indicated her sumptuous surroundings. "I prefer pleasures I don't have to work for."

"Lazy cat," he said, with a certain level of fondness and took a moment to enjoy the exquisitely spiced sakura shrimp. She must have bribed the Kidō Corps into doing more food preparation to have them so fresh out of season. But why give them to him? Today.

That a second motivation lay behind the meal quite efficiently stole his appetite. He replaced his chopsticks on the rest and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "You didn't answer my question. Is the 2nd going to bid?"

She levelled a knowing look at him. "Can't you just enjoy the food first?"

"Yoruichi." He so rarely used her given name that it had become code between them for 'cutting the crap' as Renji so bluntly put it. 

She sighed and put her own bowl down. "Not from the 2nd, no. Nor from the Shihōin. But Kisuke's dead set on getting the boy. The only way he'll stand down is if I make it a direct order and even then..." she shrugged, her gaze flitting momentarily to the far screen door. "I don't know what it is with the kid, but it's put a real bug up his ass."

Byakuya followed her quick glance and sent out a tendril of reiatsu. Ah, they were about to have company. "He's going to bid privately?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself."

The door slid back and Byakuya heard Renji begin to rise before realizing who it was and humphing out a disgusted breath. There was little love lost between his fukutaichō and Yoruichi's third seat. 

"So? Do you intend to bid?" Byakuya asked the moment the scientist stepped through the door.

Urahara met his gaze head on, a distinct change for the normally obsequious man. "That is my intention, yes."

To steal the child of a noble family? As a commoner and a third seat? Byakuya could hardly believe it. "And if I refuse to accept such insolence?"

"A little bird told me you're in need my services. I'd hate to think how the Kuchiki estate would look without enough modified souls to keep out unwelcome guests."

Byakuya shot a furious glance at Renji, whose expression had been rendered wide-eyed at the news. Damn it, how many times had he told him to pass on this type of information. He would not be held to ransom over this. If necessary he would fall back on the old techniques-

"Kisuke..." Yoruichi's warning tone knocked some of the cockiness from Urahara's stance.

"Added to which I've found nothing in the Codes of Jurisprudence stating that I'm not entitled to bid in my own right."

He was probably correct. But then the Codes had not been drawn up to deal with a situation such as this. However the law was the law. "I concur," Byakuya agreed grudgingly, "though it is extremely unusual for commoners to have sufficient means."

The smirk Urahara revealed was poisonously smug. "Most of them do not have access to my genius intellect."

"A lack I am sure they would greatly regret, had they the innate mental capacity to think at all," Byakuya snapped back.

"Oh for god's sake you two, stop posturing or get a room," Yoruichi interjected huffily. "Kisuke, grow up. I might have given you the go ahead on this but I'm not going to stand by and watch you make an ass of yourself." She turned a heated look on Byakuya. "Class jokes? Really?" 

There were times Byakuya was strongly reminded of Yoruichi's additional years. When she was scolding him like an older sister was one such. He held his tongue, but could not hold her gaze. However neither could Urahara, Byakuya noted and thus did not feel uniquely defeated. 

A more subdued and polite Urahara said, "Two million on the boy, with half as much again in goods and kind."

Byakuya blinked. He hadn't expected Urahara to raise even a quarter of that. Where had he managed to acquire that level of funding? Was Yoruichi bank-rolling this from behind the scenes? "That would..." he began and had to give himself a little shake. "That would be more than acceptable." And now it was up to him to set the choice of weapons. 

Having come here expecting to answer Yoruichi's bid, Byakuya found himself at something of a loss now he was faced with Urahara. What did he know about the man's fighting style? 

That kidō was not an option. He had seen how efficiently Urahara could incapacitate, restrain and seal even high level opponents without bothering with incantations and it was not a skill Byakuya thought he could match. So then, hakuda or shikkai. 

Byakuya's mentor for hakuda had been Isshin, a master of advanced skill. Who had trained Urahara? He shot a quick glance at Yoruichi. Had she taught him? There was none better in Soul Society and she also had that appallingly useful shunkō ability. He suppressed a shudder. Better to avoid hakuda then.

Which left shikkai. Interestingly he had only ever seen Urahara draw his zanpakutō once at close quarters. He was definitely an excellent swordsman, though Byakuya reckoned himself slightly the better of the two of them with sealed blades. Shikkai? 

Byakuya racked his memory for any clue to Urahara's shikkai and gleaned a vague recollection from a rogue hollow breakout a few decades ago. He seemed to recall that it was kidō based, which was to be expected, with slightly above average attack abilities. Did it have defences? No matter, even if it did, there was little Senbonzakura could not penetrate given the opportunity. Shikkai it was then.

"I select zanpakutō to shikkai only," he hesitated for effect, "though that restriction is undoubtedly wasted on a mere third seat."

"Actually Kisuke's had bankai for five years longer than you've had shikkai," Yoruichi drawled.

"Fuck me," Renji gasped and really Byakuya felt like repeating the sentiment. 

"Why have you never challenged for a division?" Byakuya asked, genuinely curious. Now he'd been told, he could almost sense the shape of it, like a cloak around the man. He'd thought it some form of kidō but no, it could easily be bankai.

Urahara shrugged. "Why paint a target on my back? As third seat here I've got everything I want."

That lack of ambition, so much like his captain's was anathema to Byakuya. He couldn't imagine ever settling for being less than the best, and having that recognised. He shook his head in disbelief. "Even so, the choice still stands. Zanpakutō to shikkai. I shall have my steward draw up the papers and they can be exchanged before morning." He turned to look at Yoruichi. "Unless you have any other surprises to spring on me, I think I will take my leave. It seems I will have a battle royal on my hands tomorrow."

When she inclined her head in response, he nodded and swept from the room, aware of Renji running to keep up. Damn this entire situation to hell and back again! Was he destined to be driven from every meeting like a whipped dog?

Outside the estate, with his escort standing a discrete distance away, Byakuya stopped to catch his breath and regain his temper. There was still the 9th, 10th and 5th to deal with and the hour was drawing late. 

"Never mind, taichō," Renji said from beside him. "This time tomorrow it'll all be over."

Byakuya sighed. "Indeed, though to what result I am starting to be unsure." How had he not known about that revolting man's ability? His uncle had been punctilious in his intelligence about the Gotei 13's more powerful zanpakutō and Byakuya had thought he had maintained those standards. And yet a bankai had slid past without either of them knowing.

"You'll be fine," Renji replied. He had his head tipped back and was staring up at the sky where a shooting star was tracing an arc beyond the clouds. Byakuya resisted the urge to make a wish. He had no need of such childish superstitions. 

Turning his mind to more practical matters, he said, "I believe it well past time we relieved the 13th of Ichigo's company." He thought about facing Ukitake and having to dance around the niceties of it all and added, "I entrust the task to you. See if you can manage to perform this one successfully." Renji looked abashed but nodded and bowed. Byakuya thought for a moment and then said, "Meet me by the seventh stair to the Senzaikyū within the hour. We can visit the 9th and 10th from there." In the meantime, he would deal with the other uncommitted captain.

Leaving Renji behind, Byakuya shunpo'd towards the 5th, most of the escort staying with him as was proper. He reached the compound only to discover his efforts were a complete waste of time. Hirako and his fukutaichō were both out, the guard claimed on business but Byakuya suspected otherwise. 

Years ago, Byakuya had felt a grudging respect for Hirako, a hardcore gaki who had dragged himself up through the hierarchy of Seireitei and the Gotei 13 to make captain on power and native wit alone. Then he had got to know him better and every scrap of that respect had been swept away. Hirako, like all of the others, had allowed the corruption to eat him away from the inside, and now he preyed on the desperate, picking them off and throwing them into the pits to fight for him for money. It was as base and vile a habit as any Byakuya had ever encountered and he had no time for it or its perpetrator.

Perhaps, if Byakuya was lucky, Hirako would over-indulge in all ways and sleep through tomorrow's challenges. 

Either way, his chances of persuading Hirako to formally renounce an interest in the children had been small from the start. And without a signed declaration, there was nothing preventing him from throwing a kan into the arena at any point before sunset tomorrow. 

With time on his hands before Renji's likely reappearance, Byakuya made his way slowly towards the rendezvous point and took the opportunity to think through tomorrow’s programme of events. He had scheduled Ganju first. As the easiest of his probable four opponents, this would clear him from the roster and leave Byakuya free to concentrate on the others. It would also function as a useful warm-up. 

Kurotsuchi he would face last. Again, he would probably not pose an enormous challenge. Byakuya planned to select kidō for their encounter and, as far as he knew, the other captain had little to combat it when denied his toys, thus the fight should be over quickly. The fact that it could, if necessary, still be undertaken with a fair level of physical damage made it the perfect closing bout, since he was almost inevitably going to be injured by one of his previous opponents.

As things stood, they were most likely to be Ichimaru Gin and Urahara Kisuke; without a doubt two of the most devious men in Soul Society. And two of the most skilled. Whatever order Byakuya decided to face them in, neither was going to be an easy opponent.

However any injury he sustained from Shinsō was going to be physical. Urahara's shikkai on the other hand could inflict either kidō or physical damage and thus would potentially require more healing time. His should definitely be the second battle then... at perhaps midday?

Finding himself at the seventh stair already and with Renji still absent, Byakuya settled himself beside the wall and continued to think through his options, envisioning the space in which he would fight in the search for further insights. 

The arena, not much more than a open space surrounded by raised seating, lacked shade, and full sun would be a much greater advantage against Ichimaru since it would prevent him firing that damned shikkai from the shadows. And the 6th division healers were excellent, as was the Kuchiki family physician, all of whom had already been informed that they would be needed. If necessary, Byakuya decided, they could heal him after Ichimaru and then he would face Urahara. 

Yes, that made more sense. Ganju first with Ichimaru next at midday, and then Urahara three hours after that, with Kurotsuchi about an hour before sunset, leaving no time for any other challenges. It would be unpleasant in the extreme but it was manageable.

Decision made, Byakuya turned to give instruction to one of his escort, only to come face-to-face with the feral, black and gold eyed stare of the 5th division's third seat. 

Senbonzakura was out of its sheath and against the man's neck before anyone could blink, and without breaking eye contact, Byakuya called, calmly and quietly into the night, "Hirako, call off your dog before I do the honourable thing and put him out of his misery." 

A light laugh came from the shadows across the plaza, followed by a flare of reiatsu as a kidō was broken and Hirako appeared, his fukutaichō, Tōsen Kaname, on his heels as always. "Leave 'im alone, Hisagi," he said, as he strolled casually towards Byakuya. "I reckon you've done enough fighting for one night."

At Hirako's implicit command, the third seat took a step back, then spun and leapt, coming to land lightly in a crouch beside Tōsen, who reached out and laid a hand on his head. Hisagi nuzzled into it and Byakuya's lip curled in disgust. Away from the shadow of the wall, the marks scattered up the third seat's bare arms and on his face, which Byakuya had assumed were dirt or tattoos, were very obviously blood. It looked like he'd been painting himself with it, or somebody else had. As if the man didn't look feral enough with his scarred face and wildly spiked hair.

And those eyes. Hollow's eyes, grown in Aizen's mutated shinigami/hollow half-breeds and used as spare parts for those who didn't care about the cost. Surely it would have better to leave the mutilated boy blind than to hand him over to Aizen. The result might have restored his sight but it had also reduced Hisagi to an almost animal-like state, his ferocious rages only controlled by the reiatsu suppressing collar and arm-cuffs he wore. 

"I came to look for you earlier," Byakuya said, not bothering with the normal pleasantries. Even without his escort, Hirako and his little band posed virtually no threat to Byakuya. Senbonzakura was perfectly capable of defending him against anything the three of them could throw at him, including Tōsen's much vaunted double shikkai.

"You wouldn't have found me. I was out having fun. You should join us some time, might help you get that stick out your ass." Hirako slouched against the wall next to Byakuya and grinned at him obscenely. "Unless you want me to give it a tug."

Byakuya decided not to grace any of that with an answer. It might encourage more of it. "Do you plan on bidding on the Shiba children," he asked bluntly. 

"Dunno," Hirako replied. "Think any of 'em would make decent pit fighters?"

Byakuya thought about Ichigo's phenomenal and still growing power and the banked potential he had seen in Karin and said, "No."

"Huh, that's not what Sousuke said. P'rhaps he was mistaken. It's easy done. Power, no power. Looks just the same from the right angle. Either way, I'm not interested. Got enough on my plate with these two." He jerked a thumb at Hisagi and Tōsen. "If you want, I'll even make it official."

Byakuya allowed himself to breathe a little easier. Every confirmed disinterest was one less fight for him. "In that case, I shall detain you no longer." 

"Oh, you weren't detaining me. I only stopped by to keep you company. You looked lonely standing there all by yourself." If Hirako got a closer, he'd be virtually snuggling. Byakuya resisted the urge to step back. He refused to be put on the back foot by this man. 

"Taichō?" Renji's reiatsu was rapidly followed by the man himself arriving, almost slamming into the wall beside Byakuya in his haste. Ichigo hung off his arm looking wide-eyed and an odd greenish colour. 

Hirako took one look at them and stood up from his slouch. "Well, I guess now you've got company I'll be off," he said. "I'd wish you luck for tomorrow, but I don't think you'll need it."

He was gone in a flash of shunpo, Tōsen and Hisagi along with him.

"Who the hell were those three?" Ichigo asked, his colour starting to look a little better.

"The 5th," Renji replied, glancing at Ichigo's face and then patting his shoulder in a vaguely sympathetic way. "Captain Hirako in the haori obviously. Lieutenant Tōsen with the visor, and the scary looking guy was Hisagi, their third seat. Or their guard dog, depending on who you talk to."

Ichigo shook his head, expression one of disbelief. "And I thought Matsumoto was freaky."

"You haven't met Kurotsuchi yet, now that's freaky," Renji replied. 

Byakuya, suddenly realizing what name Ichigo had just mentioned, said, "You ran into the 10th?"

"Only Matsumoto. Her captain wasn't around." Renji fished in the front of his shihakushō and pulled out a letter. "She said she was supposed to deliver this to you herself but that since I was as close to you as it was physically possible to get, I'd do just as well." He grinned and handed it over. "Ōtoribashi-taichō doesn't want them either."

Another one down. Byakuya felt even more tension release. "In that case there is only the 9th left."

"Hirako-taichō not interested?" Renji asked, as they began to walk towards the 9th. It would have been quicker to shunpo but going by the way Ichigo was stumbling, it would be kinder to give the boy a break. Or perhaps lessons.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," Byakuya said, waiting for the boy to look at him before continuing. "If you are to learn shunpo, you must learn to manipulate your reiatsu, as you did when you manifested your zanpakutō. Do you remember your method for doing this?"

A panicked expression spread over the boy's face. "Erm... no?" he said.

Renji huffed. "I've got this, taichō," he said. The implied, 'you're really bad at this' was as silent as it was amused. Byakuya tended to teach by example, which didn't lend itself for shunpo. If he remembered rightly, he'd taught Renji entirely by accident, leaving him behind one day in a fit of pique and then looking round to discover he'd managed to keep up. He still wasn't entirely sure how Renji had managed that.

"How about when you took a swing at the captain," Renji was saying. "You must of put an extra bit of umph into it, yeah?"

Ichigo's confused expression cleared. "Oh right, that was just channelling my energy like they teach at the dojo." He shrugged off Renji's hand and took a familiar looking ready stance before doing a fast one-two punch combination. "Like that," he said.

"Not bad," Renji replied, "now do it again and this time really push the energy out there. Imagine it pouring out the ends of your fists."

"Renji-?" Byakuya began, just as Ichigo did exactly as he was told. The paving slabs for fifteen feet in front of them exploded from the ground as though someone had driven a sledge hammer into them. 

"Shit!" Ichigo yelped, leaping backwards.

"Not bad," Renji said, nodding in obvious admiration.

Byakuya shook his head in disgust and stalked past them, shunpo'ing a few steps to avoid the damage. Honestly, he didn't what he was thinking. The pair of them were going to be a disaster together.


	5. The Unquiet Blues x2

The 9th turned out to be a big-time bust. They weren't accepting visitors of any kind, no matter their rank. 

Renji escorted a tense Kuchiki-taichō back to the manor, then made his excuses and headed for the division. He hadn't had time to check the last of the arrangements today and Renji would be derelict in his duty as fukutaichō if he didn't ensure everything was properly prepared. Plus if he stayed at the manor, all he'd do was worry and that was the last thing taichō needed if he was sitting jinzen. Ichigo he'd left with a book on the history of Seireitei and strict instructions not to move from the guest chambers. If Renji would be a distraction, Ichigo fidgeting around would likely drive Kuchiki-taichō up the wall.

After thrashing out the last of the details with the third seat, tackling a small mountain of paperwork, and handling a couple of pressing disciplinary matters, he arrived back at the manor just before ten hoping to snatch a few hours sleep before taichō needed him again. Instead he found Ichigo sitting alone on the front steps.

"Problem?" he asked as he arrived. Ichigo raised tired eyes and blinked sleepily up at him. He had his zanpakutō across his knees, Renji realised. 

"No," Ichigo replied. "I just thought I ought to wait for you to get back. He's..." He glanced back over his shoulder towards the open door and grimaced. "He's meditating or something and it didn't seem right to leave him there without a guard."

"We'll make a fukutaichō out of you yet," Renji said, not bothering to explain that the captain's private staff had been on watch and would only retire now they knew Renji had returned. He tugged Zabimaru out of his obi, and sat down, gazing out over the moonlit garden. The night was resonant with cicada song and over towards the stream fireflies were dancing, golden spots of light in the darkness. Renji inhaled deeply, and eased his shoulders, allowing the stress of what was to come to slowly slip away. There was nothing he could do now, except be here, near his captain, offering what support he could.

He closed his eyes and lay back on the boarding, using linked fingers to cushion his head. Every breath tonight was filled with memories. The familiar richness of honeysuckle wafting in on the slight breeze from the wilder edges of the gardens took him back to Inuzuri and summer nights grazing his way through bushes of the sweet blossoms. Last night it had been the delicate scent of sakura which always accompanied Senbonzakura's shikai. He shuddered, recalling Byakuya's touch. That had been all about passion and demand and skin-hungry pleasure. This was... just nice. Quiet, peaceful, even if it was the calm before the storm. 

"It's called jinzen, by the way," he said after a while, just to be friendly.

He heard a shifting noise beside him and then Ichigo said, "What is?"

"The meditation that Kuchiki-taichō's doing." Renji sighed, opened his eyes and explained, "It's a way of communing with your zanpakutō, of getting closer to it. You were deep into something like it this morning when I found you, I reckon."

Ichigo had turned sideways, legs crossed, and had his chin propped on his palm, his elbow leaning on one knee. His other hand rested atop his zanpakutō which was lying on the boards beside him. His fingers were moving slightly as though he was petting it. 

"Who did start that?" he asked. "One minute I was stuck inside an office block, drowning, and the next your sword was heading for my neck. I was swinging before I was thinking."

Renji blinked at him. Okay, that was useful, informative, and more than he wanted to know. Still, the kid was asking polite questions, thus he deserved not to be brushed off. Renji thought back to the moment he'd walked into the room that morning to find Ichigo on the bed. 

"All I saw was you sat there with a zanpakutō on your lap," he said, "and considering you'd tried to kill us the night before, I reckoned getting the drop on you would be a good idea. Your zanpakutō must have heard me draw Zabimaru and kicked you out."

"Out of where?" Ichigo asked and then sat up a bit. "Zabimaru? Is that your zanpakutō's name?"

Renji reached down and patted the familiar shape beside him. "Yep. This is Zabimaru. If you're really lucky, when you've found out the name of your blade, I'll show you his shikkai."

"It's Zangetsu," Ichigo replied immediately.

Renji's head thudded against the boards. The kid already knew his zanpakutō's name. Of course he did. Not only was he the Shiba heir and a noble, he also had a blade stuck in shikkai, so he had to know its name. Damn it, Renji thought, I'm really not on the ball tonight.

Ichigo was still talking. "Least that's what came out when I thought about it really hard. It was kind of difficult to concentrate with the stupid dream thing I was having."

Renji wrinkled his nose. This he really didn't want to know about. "That's your inner world. All shinigami who've reached shikkai have it. It's the place you go to meet with your zapakutō. And it's private."

"Right." Ichigo nodded sagely, then said, "So what's yours? Mine's this like office complex-"

"Argh!" Renji yelled and slammed his hands over his ears. Sure it was childish but he really did not want to know. "I said private, you moron. As in we don't talk about it."

"Why not?"

Why? Renji hunted through his mind for a reason. Because... because... "Just because, okay! You don't ask people what they jerk off to, and you don't ask them about their inner world. It's private."

This time understanding seemed have penetrated. "Right," Ichigo said and then, with a wicked smirk, he glanced towards the open door of the captain's quarters and leaned forwards. "What d'you reckon Kuchiki's is like?"

"Shut the hell up!" Renji bellowed because, much as he didn't want to hear Ichigo talking about it, he had wondered himself. He'd even thought about what it would be like, to touch Kuchiki-taichō's soul like Zabimaru touched his own. 

A quiet, unimpressed voice spoke from the shadowed doorway behind them. "I was informed there was an ape on the stoop. It appears Senbonzakura miscounted."

Renji leapt to his feet as his captain stepped into view. Kuchiki-taichō had changed out of his shihakushō and was wearing a sleeping kimono that looked the same colour as his eyes in the moonlight. Along with his pale skin and long loose dark hair, it made him look like a ghost. Shaking off his superstitious fear, Renji bowed deeply. "Sorry, taichō. We didn't mean to disturb you. I was just-"

"So I heard," Kuchiki-taichō interjected. "Kurosaki Ichigo, our inner worlds are sacrosanct because they symbolize the deepest bond between shinigami and zanpakutō. Your mockery of such unsuitable subjects will not be tolerated. 

"Now I wish to sleep. The two of you will bathe before joining me." And with that he swept back into the house.

 

Several minutes later, when Renji was still beating himself up about not being more considerate towards his captain, Ichigo, who was perched on a stool with a handful of soap suds, said out of nowhere, "What I don't get is why he's doing this at all. I thought maybe we were related, like through my dad somehow, but I dunno, even if we are, it seems like a lot of hassle for three kids you hardly know."

Renji looked up from scrubbing his feet and said, "That's easy. You're Shiba. If he let you go to anyone else, it'd be dishonourable."

"I dunno," Ichigo replied broodingly. "Still seems like he's gonna be forking out a lot of money. It'll take years to pay him back." 

"Money?"

"Yeah, to cover the bids tomorrow."

Where the hell the kid got some of his ideas Renji didn't know. He took a seat on his stool, crossed his arms over his knees and levelled a look at Ichigo, who glared back at him and snapped, "What? It's not like I can go to college or get a bank loan!"

"He's not gonna be buying you tomorrow, dumb ass," Renji explained patiently. If Ichigo had been working under this misapprehension, it was about time someone put him straight.

"But the auction..."

"It's just another way of saying challenges. He's gonna be fighting for you tomorrow." Even saying that made Renji gulp back nerves. Taichō was strong, one of the strongest captains in the Gotei 13. If he was taking on just one of these guys, Renji wouldn't doubt him for a moment. But all four in one day was going to be difficult.

Ichigo was staring at him, mouth slowly opening and colour draining from his face. 

But there was no point in stopping there. Renji continued, relentless in his instruction. "To live in Seireitei, you have to have citizenship, it's the law, okay? And there's only one way to get it. You have to be affiliated with someone or something. Everyone does. People from Rukongai, like me, go to the Gotei 13 and get a kind of citizenship that lasts as long as they serve. But even folks who are born in Seireitei, like the nobles, have to be affiliated through their families at birth. If their family disowns them, or the family disintegrates, and they've got nothing else to fall back on, then they lose their citizenship and become non-people. 

"Because your dad was stripped of his status when he was convicted and you guys were born after he lost it, that's what you and your sisters are. Non-people. Anyone who isn't a citizen is a non-person. You should be Shiba, but there's no Shiba left who are strong enough to take up the fight for you and there's a whole load of people who say you should be something else instead. But Central 46 have given Kuchiki-taichō a chance to try on your behalf."

"And he's gonna fight them, so I can be what? My dad's heir?" Ichigo looked horrified. "That's stupid! I don't even want to be-"

"You weren't listening," Renji interrupted. "Shut your mouth and think about this for a second. I said, there's people who'll fight to make you something else. Not some _one_ , some _thing._ I'm not talking about you being made to marry someone you don't like. I'm talking about being cut up and turned into a monster. You saw Hisagi earlier? That's what happened to him. And believe me, that's mild compared to some." 

Now Ichigo was looking green. Renji didn't blame him. He'd felt pretty green the first time he'd realised what the people in Seireitei were really capable of. He'd always thought the creeps and thugs in Rukongai were nasty, but they had nothing on shinigami levels of horrible.

"Kuchiki-taichō won't let that happen," he said, trying to be reassuring. "It would be dishonourable. You're a noble... Ichigo?" 

The kid was on his feet rinsing off, face pale but expression absolutely set. There was a determination to his actions that didn't bode well for anything that got in his way, like furniture or possibly political systems. Damn it, if he was gonna do something stupid Renji had better be there to stop him. Taichō'd kill him otherwise.

Renji was still fighting with the scoop and too much soap by the time Ichigo, still soaking wet, grabbed his towel and made to leave. He got partway to the door, span around and snapped, "How many?"

"How many what?" Renji asked, and looked up into eyes like hardened amber. Damn the kid could do cold fury almost as well as taichō. 

"Of these challenges. How many fights does he have tomorrow?"

"Three definitely," Renji began and when Ichigo opened his mouth, he added hurriedly, "but it could be more. Bids can be placed any time from dawn until sunset tomorrow and there's still two captains who haven't committed either way. And then there's private bids-"

"Bids! Why not fights? Why use such stupid language?" 

The calm relaxed kid from the front steps had entirely vanished. This bundle of rage and fear was more like the Ichigo Renji remembered from the Living World. The one who'd tried to crawl across the floor to get his sisters back without knowing what the hell he was going up against. And here he was asking questions. It suggested he was still thinking clearly, something taichō would probably want encouraged. 

Renji dropped the scoop back in the bucket and gave Ichigo his full attention. "Because it used to be about money before the Gotei 13 was created. But the first captains from Rukongai didn't have the funds to outbid the nobles and so they started challenging people to fights instead. Take out a couple of nobles and people start listening to you, even if you haven't got much money. Now it's swung the other way. Everyone fights and the money side is thought of as kind of dirty, but they still do it because it stops the numbers of challenges getting stupid."

Ichigo was staring over Renji's shoulder, shaking his head slightly. Renji'd lost him again, he could tell. And he could empathize; the first time taichō had tried to explain it to him, it had been about as clear as mud. 

Instead of repeating himself, Renji latched on to a concrete example and used that. "Urahara Kisuke is third seat of the 2nd division. His captain, if she wanted to bid, wouldn't have to put up a proper stake, because she's a captain. Urahara, as a third seat, does have to put up a stake because he's bidding as a private citizen. And the stake has to be high enough that the challenge is taken seriously, otherwise anyone could wander in off the street and do it. Most bids are around one hundred thousand kan, depending how useful the person is they're bidding on. Urahara's put up over two million for you alone."

Renji waited for the shock and awe, and got nothing. Ichigo was still staring at him blankly. "It's a lot," Renji clarified. "Really a lot. It even made taichō blink."

Emotion stirred in Ichigo's eyes but it wasn't surprise. It looked like sadness, but that didn't make any sense. "Come on," Renji said, "That should get a bit of a reaction at least. No one puts up that sort of money. He must really want you, and when taichō whips his ass for him, it'll all-."

"Renji." For a second Renji thought it was the mention of ass whippage that had made him interrupt, then Ichigo shook his head and turned away. "It's not the money, Renji. I wouldn't care if he offered twenty million. Money's just money and there's more... " 

He glanced at Renji, half-turned so Renji could only see about a quarter of his face. It made his cheekbones look carved and his eyelashes a mile long. He looked so damned beautiful and so damned sad. "He's protecting my sisters. Last night I tried to kill him and tomorrow he's gonna go out there and risk his life in my place to keep my little sisters safe and, Renji, explain to me... How the hell am I ever going to pay him back for that?"

Oh. Renji felt a clench in his belly and chest. He knew that feeling way too well. "You can't," he said. "I've been trying for half a century and I haven't found a way of doing it."

Silence fell between them, water dripping from taps the only the sound in the room. Renji shivered as the wet ends of his hair clung to his damp skin. The night might be warm but he was still goosebumps from head to toe. He was just about to break and say something when Ichigo looked up at him, frowning and said, "And what the hell d'you mean anyway?"

"Eh?" Renji said, taking a break from being supportive to grab his towel and start rubbing down. Now it didn't look like Ichigo was going to run off into the night, he might as well finish what he came here for. Time was racing and he didn't want taichō coming to look for them again. 

As he towelled, he explained, "Taichō saved my ass. I was gonna end up in Kurotsuchi's labs but he challenged for me and won me away from him. Hence I owe him."

When Renji emerged somewhat dryer, Ichigo was scrubbing at his own hair with a towel. His face was all scrunched up like he was thinking hard. "Okay, yeah, I got that," he said after a moment and then added, disgustedly, "Not the labs and fuck, how can that sort of thing be allowed to happen? But that's not what I meant. Half a century? You're only a couple of years older than me, aren't you?"

"I have no idea," Renji replied, resisting the urge to flick his towel when Ichigo turned away to dry his legs and showed off that neat, still slightly bruised backside.

Ichigo frowned at him over his shoulder. "You have no idea how old you are?"

"No! Idiot! I've no idea how old _you are._ " What the hell did the kid take him for, ignorant?

"Eighteen, erm... Tomorrow. Crap. I'd forgotten." Ichigo's shoulders drooped and he wrapped the towel round his hips, snugging it tight with a sigh. "Happy birthday to me, I guess."

He looked so miserable that Renji threw a brush at him. "Cheer up. By the end of tomorrow you'll be a Shiba," he said, smirking as Ichigo tried to duck and dodge at the same time and almost slipped over on the wet tile. "Or a lab rat," 

Pulling a face, Ichigo snatched the brush from the floor and stood tossing it thoughtfully between his hands as though weighing it up. "I'm really gonna owe him, Renji," he said quietly after a moment.

Back to that again. "Yeah, well, just learn to live with it. I do," Renji replied, slinging his wet towel on the bench and turning to grab a couple of yukata from the hooks on the wall – only to be beaned by a well-aimed scrubbing brush. 

"Fucker!" he yelped and swung back, just in time to see Ichigo's towel-clad ass vanish out the door. Renji gave chase, thundering along the hallway and using a touch of shunpo to catch up before Ichigo made it to the bedroom.

He high-tackled the kid, got him in a headlock and dug his knuckles into his skull, all the while avoiding flailing feet and elbows. "Yer gonna have to get up earlier'n that, you little..." he said just as the bedroom door slid back with a sharp thwack reminiscent of canes and being caught napping.

Somehow Renji managed to drop Ichigo, shove a yukata at him and press them both into a bow before Kuchiki-taichō said, "Renji?" in a tone that suggested he'd better have a good reason for this behaviour if he valued the location of his skin.

"Sorry, taichō," Renji began, only run out of words when he rose to find Kuchiki-taichō's disappointed expression resting on him. He hung his head. There weren't any excuses. Except that being around Ichigo brought out the worst in him, apparently. He settled for an apologetic, "It won't happen again."

A heavy annoyed sounding sigh was followed by, "I fear that is an impossible dream. Kurosaki Ichigo?"

Ichigo, now actually wearing the yukata rather than holding it in front of him, dipped a bow so shallow it might as well have been a nod. But then, Renji thought, this time tomorrow they'd almost be equals. Not that taichō would acknowledge that. For all that he was a noble, Kuchiki Byakuya valued equality of strength almost as much as accidents of birth. 

"You have expressed a wish to repay me. If you truly desire this, then you can start by taking my watch tonight." 

It was Renji's turn to be surprised. And not just at the request, though that was surprising enough. It was the sneakiness. Taichō had been spying on them. Listening outside the door. What else might he have heard? Nothing bad, Renji didn't think.

"Close your mouth, Renji. You look like a carp."

Renji snapped his mouth shut at taichō's comment and glared at Ichigo, who was smirking at him. "You can quit looking at me like that," he growled, not entirely playfully. "If taichō's put you on guard duty, that makes you one of my soldiers. As of right now, I'm your commanding officer, you little punk."

"As I am yours, now please, can we get some sleep." Kuchiki-taichō swept back into the bedroom. "Ichigo, are you willing to take first watch?"

The smirk vanished. "Erm, yeah, I guess, though I'm not sure what I'm doing."

"Very little now the mod souls are back in working order. You have your zanpakutō. If anyone attempts to enter the room, kill them."

*

An hour before dawn saw Renji supervising the last of the Kuchiki entourage into the arena and setting up the tents and shelters that would provide comfort and privacy for the clan head between bouts. Kuchiki-taichō was due to arrive as the sun rose and Ichigo would accompany him, partially as Renji's stand-in and also because his attendance was mandatory. They'd had word from the 13th that Kira would bring Yuzu and Karin, and Renji made sure that the staff knew there were two girls to cater for as well as taichō, Ichigo and himself.

But the letter from the 13th was the only word they'd had that morning. Hirako-taichō's official withdrawal had arrived late last night but they were still missing anything from the 3rd and 9th. Which meant Kuchiki-taichō could be facing five opponents today if Muguruma decided to emerge from whatever funk he fallen into this time. Honestly, Renji thought as he watched the physician’s day-help humping a solid-looking medicine chest between them, he'd be doing the Gotei 13 a favour if he took the guy out.

Though at the rate Ichigo was going, he'd be ready long before Renji was. The kid had surpassed genius and was rapidly bearing down on prodigy territory with the way his power was growing. Shikkai in twenty-four hours. Renji snorted. He'd probably have bankai within a week and be challenging for a captaincy a month later. Ignoring the small part of him which rejoiced at the idea of seeing the back of Ichigo and getting his taichō to himself again, Renji concentrated instead on the resentful bit that wanted to get stronger and not be shamed by a brand new jumped up pip-squeak of a kid.

Anyway that kid wasn't fukutaichō, Renji was. To him fell the duty of watching his captain's back and ensuring everything was in place for him. To that end, Renji started a final inspection of the set-up. Five and twenty tents erected in a rough half-circle formation with a shaded area between them. Select members of the 6th were already guarding the perimeter of the small camp and the rest of the division would flank them, providing solid protection from any other units who arrived in strength. It wasn't unheard of for these events to degenerate into mass brawls if bouts went in unexpected ways. Not that they would today, Renji reassured himself. Taichō would be fine. He'd kick Ichimaru and Urahara six ways from Sunday and they'd all be home for tea. Or at least a late dinner.

And then Ichigo would be a Shiba and taichō would have another lieutenant to train up and Renji would be left with all the grunt work while the two nobles shared tea- argh! What the hell had got into him this morning?

Renji took a quick look around to check no one was watching and slunk inside the physician's tent. He wasn't hiding, he was just taking a moment to regroup. Because Renji knew exactly why he was so rattled about Ichigo this morning, and it had started last night.

Getting to sleep had been bad enough. Renji couldn't remember the last time he had _slept_ with Kuchiki-taichō. Not really slept. Not in the same bed, at the same time, with the covers over them and nothing between them but sleeping clothes and breath-heated air. It had taken forever to drop off and then when Ichigo had woken him, he'd had to watch the kid take his place. It was like watching the future. And Renji had nursed the pangs of jealousy for the rest of the night, sitting in the corner of the room with Zabimaru across his lap, and trying not to watch as the two shapes in the bed migrated towards each other until they finally touched and became one. 

He might have been less than gentle when he woke Ichigo this morning.

"Abarai-fukutaichō?" a light female voice called from outside.

Renji gathered his thoughts, shoved them down deep where they belonged, and poked his head out of the tent. It was Tamiko, the cook's assistant. She was blond and pretty and tiny and Renji had had something of a crush on her when he'd first arrived at the estate. He wasn't sure what had happened to it. He seemed to have misplaced it along the years, like a lot of other things.

She smiled up at him when he emerged and said, "There you are. I thought I saw you disappear somewhere around here. There's been a problem with the fish for breakfast. Chuusai asked if one of your shinigami could shunpo over to the merchant to find out what the problem is. He'd send one of the boys but they won't get there and back in time."

"No problem," Renji replied with what he hoped was a winning grin. His gaze fell to the front of her kimono, which from this angle gaped just the perfect amount. That was the other thing about Tamiko. She had excellent... assets. "I'll sort that out for you right away."

"Thank you, Abarai-fukutaichō." She smiled at him again and this time there was definite heat in it. And Renji was tempted, very tempted. If Ichigo was going to become a permanent fixture, would taichō let him take another lover? If he did, then Tamiko might be the one. Being a Kuchiki employee and a non-shinigami, she was as safe as he was likely to find. "I'll see you later, maybe," she said, turning away with a little backward glance and another smile. 

"Yeah, maybe." Renji watched her go – how did women get their hips to wriggle like that and not fall over – before giving himself a metaphorical shake and going to track down his fastest messenger. For some reason, seeing Tamiko had made him feel a whole lot better about things. Now he only had the upcoming bouts to worry about. Renji felt his gut lurch at the thought. Damn, there was no way he was going to be able to eat breakfast feeling like this.

As it turned out, breakfast smelled too good to miss, even with a dodgy stomach. The scents of cooking fish and meat and rice wafting out across the arena were so mouthwatering that Kira, when he turned up, was practically drooling as they chatted. 

Renji, who'd only caught a glimpse of taichō as he'd arrived and was just about to go and join them anyway, couldn't resist a teasing, "You want an invite?" when Kira's gaze drifted towards the tent for the third time in as many minutes. 

"No, no, I couldn't," Kira replied, though it was only his mouth that was speaking. The rest of him was already pulling up a seat.

"Come on. No one'll mind," Renji said encouragingly and led the way. The girls had already hurried ahead, lured in by the smells as much as Kira. They ducked into the tent to find Kuchiki-taichō at the head of a long low table that was virtually groaning with food, and in apparently deep conversation with Yuzu about some dish or another while Ichigo sat to his right, Karin beside him. 

"Kira-san!" Yuzu called when she spotted him, "Come and explain what you were telling me earlier. I've tried and tried and Byakuya-sama doesn't understand."

The name clanged through Renji's mind like a death knell. _His_ name. Byakuya was _his name_ for taichō.

"You mean about the Wappani?" Kira asked, bowing deeply before stepping forwards. "It's nothing desperately profound, I'm afraid, Kuchiki-taichō, just a recipe I remember my mother being very fond of."

"Your mother? Ah, of course, she was from Seireitei, was she not?" A gracious hand waved Kira to the seat beside Yuzu, which he took with another deep bow. "She was the great-granddaughter of my uncle's second cousin, I believe, though the relationship is tenuous."

And there they sat. Nobles all. Renji hovered near the door feeling too big and too stupid and too 'not one of them' to dare join in without being invited. But that was okay, because they would invite him. Wouldn't they?

"Renji?" 

Renji glanced up into that familiar cool gaze and waited to be asked. 

"Is all as it should be outside?"

"Erm... yeah..." God, where was his head, and his manners. He dipped a bow. "Everything is as you requested, Kuchiki-taichō. Should any challengers appear, word will brought directly."

"Excellent. Then don't let me keep you from your duties. I'm sure you have a lot to do."

He was throwing him out? Renji dipped another bow and reversed from the tent, fingers twisting in his hakama in an effort to keep his cool. He'd just thrown him out. Was this the future he had to look forward to? 

Swallowing back envy and bitterness, he strode away from the tent, heading for the first inspection point of the security cordon, and sought to lose himself in the minutiae of the day's arrangements. 

As a strategy it was marginally successful. He handled a couple of attempts to infiltrate the camp, sent one shinigami back to HQ under guard for turning up to work with a hangover, and ensured his presence was conspicuously evident when the other divisions started to arrive a few hours later. Although in theory bids could be made any time after sun up, in practice few were if the defender was anyone of strength. Why take on a well-rested combatant when you could wait until later and challenge one who was already tired and possibly injured? Thus the audience usually delayed their arrival until only an hour or so before the first scheduled bout, and then only to ensure a decent view. 

Sure enough as the sun began to climb, the seats started to fill. Even with challenges being a regular occurrence, seeing Kuchiki-taichō in combat was a treat for a lot of shinigami and the promise of Ichimaru and Kurotsuchi later had them flocking to the arena. Shihōin Yoruichi swept in as one of the first, in full clan regalia, her attendants clearing the way. Renji, tugging on his goggles and adjusting the focus so they zoomed in on her, wondered off-hand how long that would last. In his experience, when the temperature started rising, on and off the field, Yoruichi started stripping off the layers. You could almost tell how good the combat was by how much of her you could see. It was a hell of an inducement to fight well, that was for sure.

Not much later Unohana-taichō arrived with several rescue and repair squads behind her. Renji checked in with his third seat and then made his way over to where she and her division were setting up. 

"Good morning, Unohana-taichō," he said with a respectful bow. "My captain is busy right now, but I'd like to offer my thanks for you coming today. It'll really help pick up the slack if anything goes wrong."

She inclined her head at him gracefully, like she did everything, not for a second taking her eyes off the bustling ant's nest of activity going on before her. "The 4th may also be a combat squad, Abarai-fukutaichō, but we will never forget our responsibility to the rest of the Gotei 13."

"No, ma'am," he said, feeling as though he'd managed to insult and be insulted back and yet not having a clue how it happened. This was why he wondered if taichō was really doing the right thing grooming him for a captaincy. Politics was really not his thing.

The next lot to turn up was Hirako and the 5th, and by now the stands were starting to look like a bed full of summer flowers. Painted parasols and sunshades warred amongst the seats with more formal gazebos, and colourful awnings with criers calling their wares outside proved that more than a few hawkers had managed to buy their way in. Renji left them to it. They filled a niche, supplying food and drink to those too leery of losing their seats to risk leaving for long.

He kept his eye on the 5th instead, noting without surprise that Hirako, with Tōsen and Hisagi trailing behind him as always, headed straight for the back of the far bank of stands where the betting rings would be hiding. In theory, wagering on the outcome of formal challenges was forbidden. In practice, it was impossible to prevent, so the bookmakers simply stayed in the shadows on the understanding that, if they didn't flaunt it, no one would bother enforcing the rules. So long as everyone played nice, the system pretty much worked. Of course, when it didn't, the thugs employed by the bookies to ensure timely payment of debts added an extra layer of fun to any punch-up.

Just to be on the safe side, and since he was halfway there already, Renji shunpo'd over to check in person that there was nothing going on that he needed to know about. From the top of the stands, he peered down into the dark shade of the alley below, watching as Hirako, a splash of white in the gloom, moved from stall to corner to knot of dodgy looking guys, placing bets and exchanging gossip. 

He was about to leave them to it when the hackles on the back of his neck rose and he sensed someone's gaze on him. And Renji didn't have to look to know who it was. He turned and saw Hisagi perched on an outcropping halfway up the wall opposite. He was staring at Renji, his unblinking eyes more alien in bright sunshine than they were at night. The scars, five ridged gouges that stretched from one side of his face to the other from nose to hairline, looked almost wet with the way they reflected the light. His original eyes must have been completely destroyed, Renji thought, not for the first time.

He'd known Hisagi back at the camps, when he'd been just another one of the gaki, barefoot and dirty. He'd always been one of the cool ones though, standing up for the littler kids and making sure no one bullied them out of their ration. 

Renji shuddered and forced himself to turn away. Every time he saw Hisagi, it made him hate on Urahara that little bit more. Kurotsuchi might have stolen kids from their beds, but Urahara lured them away with candy and promises and Renji knew which he thought was worse. 

By the time the Ōmaeda arrived with Kūkaku and Ganju in tow, the stands were packed and the eight officers from the Kidō Corps were in position in front of them, ready to raise the barrier once the fighting started. There was still no sign of the 3rd or the 9th but shinigami from all the divisions were there in varying numbers.

Renji took his place on the edge of the lists to wait for the judge to declare the bout open. He felt almost like a person again, the incident at breakfast all but forgotten and his entire focus now on the impending combat. This was where his job truly started. If anything happened, it would be Renji's task to ensure the captain either got the help he needed in the arena or was removed from the field for treatment. It was also his job to ensure none of the 6th division got carried away and started anything they couldn't justify by proving the other guy punched first.

On top of that, he was also responsible for Ichigo and his sisters. Currently they were safely tucked within the confines of the shady tents where they could see and be seen, and yet not be vulnerable to attack. The entire set-up was an exercise in one-upmanship in terms of security and presentation. If he hadn't done it, or something like it, a dozen times already, Renji would have had a headache just from thinking about it.

Even so, he found himself poised, as though on a knife edge, as the noise from the crowd began to swell and Kuchiki-taichō strode out from the main tent. Renji turned to greet him and did a double take. He was always aware that taichō walked the narrow line between clan head and Gotei 13 division commander by supplementing his standard captain's uniform with the Kuchiki windflower silk scarf and kenseikan. He'd also see Kuchiki-sama, the political head of the Kuchiki clan in full regalia for numerous formal functions. 

This, though, was different again. Since Shiba Ganju was non-shinigami and yet still a noble, for this bout Kuchiki-taichō was _fighting_ as the head of the Kuchiki-clan, an aspect of his captain that Renji had hardly seen at all. And it made him look very different.

He had forgone his monochrome shinigami uniform entirely and opted instead for a hitatare and hakama in the deepest amethyst silk with the Kuchiki mon printed five times, on the chest, sleeves and lower back. Across his shoulders he wore hardened leather sode, painted plum purple, and edged with old gold to compliment the mon. His lower legs and feet were enclosed in armour of the same colour and in his hands he carried a helm which somehow managed to look delicate and functional simultaneously. The only concession to his captaincy of the 6th was the dark cobalt blue kosode just visible at his neck. His hair he wore caught back in a loose knot and there was no sign of its usual ornamentation, or the scarf. Renji was almost grateful to see Senbonzakura thrust firmly through his obi. Without it, he would hardly have recognised his captain at all.

"Renji," Kuchiki-taichō said as he came to stand beside him. 

Renji bowed deeply. "Taichō."

They stood together for a moment, silence ripening and quickly becoming uncomfortable, Renji still horribly aware that he'd been excluded from that elite little gathering earlier and deeply resenting the way those feelings of inadequacy came racing back with taichō's presence.

Then Kuchiki-taichō cleared his throat and said, "It has been brought to my attention that you perhaps mistakenly assumed your presence wasn't desired at breakfast this morning." He paused, and Renji could almost hear him rehearsing the words and trying to force them out. 

He could let him try, he supposed, but it would probably be cruel. Kuchiki didn't do apologies. They didn't have the genes for it, Renji reckoned. "S'okay, taichō," he said finally, when Kuchiki-taichō still hadn't managed to make his mouth form the words. "My bad. Next time, I'll just barge on in there and sit on your lap." 

Taichō nodded seriously, then frowned and turned an assessing gaze on him. "I would be eternally grateful if you didn't. I'm not sure either of our reputations would survive it." He glanced out over the field, expression softening a little. "Even so, I had no intention of excluding you, Renji. Such was not my desire."

Good enough. Renji nodded his acceptance of the round about apology and said, "Judge is about to call the challenge. You all ready?"

"I am." Taichō slid the helm onto his head and adjusted it slightly. "I shall return in few minutes and we can prepare for the next bout." And with that he shunpo'd over to the edge of the field where the judge and Ganju awaited.

Renji tugged down his goggles, the better to see the action and, as the judge began to recite the rules – swords only and the first one to concede or deemed not able to continue loses – cast an assessing eye over the challenger. Shiba Ganju had, ironically considering taichō's choices and perhaps in honour of his dead brother, opted to wear all black; narrow hakama, form fitting kosode and a short sleeved haori which reached to mid-thigh. The only splash of colour in his outfit was the Shiba mon picked out in reds, blues and golds across his broad back. The clothing looked far more impressive than Renji was expecting the performance of its wearer to be. If rumour was correct then Ganju was able to use some kind of kidō, was very proficient in his family's speciality of explosives and fireworks, and was crap with a sword. If he even made taichō break step, Renji would be very surprised.

But even he wasn't expecting events to fall out the way they did. 

The judge completed his recitation and each competitor took their starting positions. The barrier went up, the gong sounded and Shiba Ganju collapsed into the dust. He hadn't even had time to draw his sword.

"Senka," Renji breathed, rerunning the movements in his head as a groan went up around the arena. The crowd had obviously expected a bit more than a second of mostly impossible to follow action. A woman's scream followed and Renji realised it was Kūkaku, who was kneeling on the ground beside the unmoving Ganju, her expression horrified, as well it might be.

Taichō was already close to the edge of the field when she caught up, shunpo'ing up and grabbing him by the shoulder, spinning him round. He gazed down at her, helmet off again and face absolutely impassive. She stared back, brow furrowing as her eyes searched his face as though looking for something. 

"I don't know whether to thank you or damn to hell for all eternity," she said finally, and then smacked him hard across his face. Renji heard it connect, saw taichō turn away a little and knew that she'd put a lot of power behind the blow.

She pulled back to do it again and Kuchiki-taichō grabbed her wrist. "I allowed it once," he said, "because you are a woman and he is your brother. Do not think I will allow it a second time." And with that he dropped her hand and stalked away back towards the tents.

Renji watched him go, not knowing whether to be appalled or impressed. He was just settling for both when a voice said, "What the hell was that all about?"

He turned to see Ichigo, who'd left the safety of his little enclave and come up to the edge of the field. "Senka," Renji said and then explained further, "A shunpo move that destroys the saketsu and hakusui."

Ichigo's gaze immediately shot to the centre of the arena where several figures in Ōmaeda livery were placing Ganju carefully on a stretcher. His face twisted with concern. "He's not dead is he?"

"Not physically," Renji assured him. "But taichō's sealed his spiritual power. Ganju wasn't serving in the Gotei 13 but still, it basically makes him useless. Top people in Soul Society are expected to have a bit of reiryoku so he's ruined for any kind of future position, but then again no one's gonna be trying to use him for political ends any more either. So it's kind of a double edged sword, which is how come his sister slapped taichō instead of trying to kill him."

He'd also used the guy to draw a line in the sand. With that one move Kuchiki-taichō had destroyed the existing Shiba clan and informed everyone that it either died here in this arena or was reborn under his hand in the form of Shiba Ichigo. Cold, but damn, it was effective. Anyone who had any doubts about how committed taichō was, just got an object lesson.

Kūkaku was still staring after Kuchiki-taichō, her face twisted into a perplexed frown. After a moment she sighed and made to leave. Her gaze brushed past Renji and Ichigo as she turned and her eyes widened. If Renji hadn't been excellent at lip reading, he'd never have seen the 'Kaien' she mouthed but he totally recognised the pain in her expression. She took a step forwards and Renji held up his hand, "Later Ōmaeda-san," he called. "I'm sorry, but you know how this goes."

She deflated with a huff. "Yeah, you're right," she replied and shot a look towards the tents. "Tell your boss we'll settle the rest later, okay?" and with that she shunpo'd back to the rest of her family.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm missing something," Ichigo said.

Renji smacked a hand down on his shoulder and steered him back towards the camp. "Because you are. But if everything goes to plan, you'll find out most of it later. Now get your ass back there where I can be sure no idiot is gonna take a pot shot at you."

They all retired to the main tent where lunch was served in much the same way as breakfast had been that morning. Taichō joined them, thankfully back in his shihakushō and haori, though Renji did wonder in passing if he'd be able to persuade his captain to bring the purple silk and the armour out again sometime when they weren't facing life and death situations. He fancied taking a closer look at it, a bit of a hands-on inspection as it were.

"A kan for your thoughts, Abarai-san," Kira said, close to his ear. 

Renji jumped, realising he'd been staring at taichō, and there might have been drool. "Ah, nothing," he replied, scratching at his collar. It wasn't like him and the captain were a secret. If anything taichō had wanted everyone to know since it might stop them trying to buy Renji off, but still they didn't flaunt it and Renji was fairly sure that a significant number of people thought Kuchiki-taichō just used him like some kind of fully functional mod soul and not as a person at all. Which wasn't true. Taichō had never been like that. He was just intensely private.

"You're doing it again," Kira said and when Renji turned to glare at him, he was smirking. "I think it's sweet," he continued. "You're obviously besotted with him and going by the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching, I'd say the feeling was mutual."

"Really?" Renji said, shoulders straightening as he looked across the room to where taichō was being chatted at by Yuzu. As conversationalists went, the girl was a godsend, Renji had discovered. If it had just been Ichigo, Karin and taichō in the room you would have been able to hear a pin drop in the uncomfortable silence.

And the atmosphere needed all the help it could get. They were waiting for Ichimaru, who was supposed to have arrived about an hour before and was yet to show or send word that he wasn't coming. Since he hadn't officially declined to take part, he could show up any time between now and sunset and expect Kuchiki-taichō to face him or forfeit the bout. But Renji didn't actually expect him to do that. For all his reputation, Ichimaru wasn't dishonourable. He was malicious, dangerously unpredictable and more that a bit nuts, but he had a code of honour that he held to, so if he was planning to fight taichō, he'd be here soon. 

As though summoned by Renji's thoughts, a messenger burst into the tent, dropped to one knee and announced, "Activity has been spotted outside the 3rd division's barracks, sir."

"Finally," the captain muttered, in a display of nerves that had Renji reaching for Zabimaru in sympathy. He wished he could do more than just offer moral support, but it wasn't allowed. Taichō was the champion, so he had to face each and every bidder.

They flooded out of the tent, each to their own position and taichō came to stand beside Renji at the edge of the lists just as a group of shinigami shunpo'd into the centre of the arena carrying something covered in a pale green cloth. Bypassing the judge entirely, they came straight over to where Kuchiki-taichō was standing, drawing to halt in front of him and placing their burden on the ground.

"Kuchiki-taichō," Hinamori-fukutaichō said, slipping her hood off and bowing deeply. "Ichimaru-taichō sends his regrets. He will be unable to fight you today but he hopes this will go some way towards repaying you for your inconvenience."

As Hinamori spoke, Renji was aware of two things. One was the tension in taichō's body ratcheting up until his shihakushō was shifting slightly in the breeze of his unconstrained reiatsu, and secondly, the intense cold seeping out from under the cloth.

When the 3rd's fukutaichō had finished speaking she moved to one side, allowing two of her colleagues to grab the ends of the cloth and lift it clear of the thing it concealed. Renji took a wary step back, hand on Zabimaru as the temperature dropped still further, then he stopped, frowning. 

"An ice sculpture?" he said. "What the hell?" And ice sculpture it was. About five feet tall and exquisitely detailed, it portrayed a dragon, with claws extended, rising up to protect a nest containing portions of colourful chilled fruit nestled in a blooming bush. In its jaws it held a letter, which Renji would lay money was Ichimaru's official withdrawal from the challenge. As a piece of art, it was beautiful. And completely superfluous and inappropriate for the occasion. 

Insane and unpredictable. Renji stood by his earlier assessment of the 3rd's captain.

Kuchiki-taichō looked livid. Colour flashed across his cheek bones and his fingers traced the contours of Senbonzakura's hilt. For a moment, Renji feared that the sculpture was going to be chire-d into shaved ice before the captain's reiatsu snapped back into him, and he turned on his heel. With an almost inaudible snarl, he stalked back to the tent.

Renji stared after him and then back at the sculpture, which was starting to melt in the hot sun. Now what?

"Abarai-fukutaichō?" Hinamori was looking at him enquiringly, no trace of shock or disturbance on her oddly passive face. Briefly Renji wondered what it would be like to serve a captain like Ichimaru, and then dragged his thoughts back to more rational pursuits like what the hell to do with several hundreds pounds of ice in the middle of a dusty field at the height of summer.

"My money says we rescue the fruit at least," Ichigo said from directly behind him.

Almost jumping out of his skin, Renji spun round and snapped, "Will you stay back where you're supposed to be. One over-achiever and all this goes to hell in a hand basket!"

"Fruit basket," Ichigo quipped back and then stepped away, hands held up in front of him, "Hey, man, there's no need to look at me like that. I'm not responsible for the inappropriate gift giving."

And yeah, going by Kuchiki-taichō's reaction, that's exactly what this was. Renji took another look at the sculpture, or more specifically the fruit and flowers that formed the heart of it. Peaches, grapes, bananas, kumquat, mandarin oranges, a few persimmon, presumably from Ichimaru's trees. It was a broad selection but didn't contain anything obvious. The flowers were more telling: golden marigolds and white camellias, the insignia of the 3rd and 6th, grew entwined with scarlet Shiba poppies and sprays of deep purple Kuchiki gladioli, all from the same delicate ice-wrought bush. 

Renji's heart gave a little dip. "Not subtle, Ichimaru-taichō," he muttered under his breath. He wasn't privy to all the details about Ichimaru and taichō's relationship, but he knew it went back to when they were children. Was this designed to recall their old friendship? If it was, and if it had been meant as a generous gesture, it had back-fired horribly.

But it was one he couldn't ignore. If nothing else, it was starting to make a mess. "Leave it here, Hinamori-fukutaichō," he said, bowing a quick thanks to the tiny lieutenant. "And pass on..." Okay, this was going to be difficult. "Tell your captain, his gift was received in the way he intended it." There that would have to do.

She nodded back at him, turned to the rest of the shinigami behind her and silently, they all shunpo'd away.

Five minutes later, Renji was re-entering the tent, dragging a protesting Ichigo behind him and saying, "I don't care if Yuzu likes them, they're getting chucked out. Ya wanna feed ya sister fruit that's got poison in it or something? Crap knows what Ichimaru did to it."

"Idiots," Karin said as she stepped past them to go outside. 

Renji glanced after her, and then back into the tent to see a pale looking Yuzu, a determined Kira and Kuchiki-taichō standing with his back to all of them glaring at the blank canvas wall in front of him.

Renji and Ichigo exchanged glances, then Ichigo gathered up his sister and Kira and left quietly, leaving Renji to deal with his captain.

When they'd gone, taichō slowly and visibly unwound, his shoulders lowering from where they'd been up round his ears, until he finally let out a tired sigh. "Thank you, Renji," he said, and lifted his hands to his temples, rubbing them with the tips of his fingers as if to ease a headache. It was such a show of vulnerability that Renji couldn't help but respond.

He trod to his captain's side and carefully grasped him by the shoulders, gently digging his thumbs into muscles that felt like iron. Taichō sighed again and relaxed further, his voice dropping into a hum of pleasure. "You have good hands," he said. 

Renji looked at them, huge and clumsy on his captain's priceless scarf and shook his head. "They serve," was all he could bring himself to say.

"As does all of you, and I could ask for none more loyal." 

Renji continued to work, taichō easing more and more under his touch until he was resting back against Renji's body and Renji's hands had crept up into his hair and began smoothing it through his fingers. It was softer and finer than the silk of the scarf and Renji couldn't get enough of it. Finally taichō's hand came up and laid over his. Renji linked their fingers together and let himself be pulled round so they were facing each other. Byakuya almost fell into his arms and Renji held him, feeling the heat of his breath against his neck as they stood as close as they normally were in bed.

"I loathe that man, Renji," Byakuya said after a few moments. "He plagues me. Digging at the past until it becomes a wound that is never permitted to heal." Not knowing what to say, Renji dropped a kiss on Byakuya's temple and was rewarded with a sad quirk of a smile. "The fruits were our favourites. Mine and his, Isshin's, my father's, others." Byakuya sighed again. "Why? I don't understand what he wants from me."

"Maybe he just wants you back?" Renji suggested. It seemed far-fetched but he couldn't think of any other explanation. He knew he would if he ever lost him.

A sharp dig in the ribs made Renji grunt. "I think you are maybe speaking for yourself rather than Ichimaru Gin," Byakuya said. "It is far more likely that he is simply seeking to rattle my composure before the bout with Urahara and look, he has all but succeeded." 

He stood up, pushing Renji gently away and adjusting his already perfectly draped haori. "What an unseemly display of emotion. What will people think of me. Recall them, please."

"I think you're okay, taichō," Renji reassured him as he headed for the door. "Most people don't actually expect you to be superhuman, whatever standards you demand of yourself."

"Ah, but Renji," the captain said, regarding Renji serenely as he pulled the door flap open. "If we do not demand these things of ourselves, who will demand them for us."

#


	6. Look to Your Soul: Deathberry Edition

By the time three o'clock rolled around, the crowd around the arena had started to resemble one at a soccer match. Ichigo, who had been focused on distracting Yuzu during the thing against that Ganju guy, and so had managed to miss all of it, didn't think he was going to have the same luck this time. From the way the crowd was carrying on, they were expecting a lot from this match and in their terms, Ichigo was guessing a lot probably meant blood.

"Kira?" he asked, tapping the blond on the shoulder to attract his attention. "I know people have to be able to see us, Renji explained that, but d'you reckon anyone'd mind if Yuzu and Karin sat this one out inside one of the tents. It's just-"

"You don't want them to see if anyone gets hurt."

"Yeah, that about covers it."

Kira levelled look at him, the sort of serious one that made Ichigo want to squirm. "I know you only wish to protect you sisters," he said. "However, don't you think it's up to them to make that decision?"

He probably had a point. Ichigo glanced over to where Karin and Yuzu were sitting on zabuton, leaning back against some boards one of the staff had banged into the ground when they realised the girls couldn't sit seiza for hours like the nobles they were used to could. Although they were facing the arena, they weren't looking at it and actually Karin was only one who glanced in that direction occasionally. Yuzu was making a point of not looking over there, as if she was training her eyes not to see it.

Ichigo scrubbed his hands over his face. He'd been honing this instinct to protect them since they were born and it was never going to go, but maybe Kira had a point. They were kids, but they weren't little kids, not any more. And since they were stuck here in Soul Society, they were gonna have to grow up a hell of a lot faster than he might have wanted them to. So maybe, maybe he should start to let go, just a little.

"Okay," he said. "I'll ask."

They both opted to stay. Ichigo thought Yuzu probably did only because Karin obviously wanted to and she didn't want to be in the tent alone. Neither of them wanted goggles though.

Ichigo did. He couldn't stand the idea of a battle going on in his name that he couldn't see.

A cheer erupted around the grounds. "Urahara's arrived!" someone called, and Ichigo heard word being passed back and forth. Renji was already over by the edge of the field and Ichigo could see the tension in his body and the way he kept glancing back to the tent from where Kuchiki was going to emerge any moment. And there he was. Looking calm and collected in his uniform. At least he wasn't wearing that odd purple armour outfit he'd had on earlier. It made him look even more like something out of a movie than the shinigami gear.

"Kira," Ichigo said again. He really really wanted to be closer. Being stuck back here was driving him mad.

"Go," Kira said, as Kuchiki exchanged a few words with Renji then vanished across the field to where the judge was waiting. 

Ichigo nodded his thanks, grabbed the scarf he'd managed to scrounge off one of the servants, and hurried over to where Renji was watching his captain. He wrapped the cloth around his head and then said, "Before you shout at me, I'm gonna sit down so I'm a small target and I've already covered my hair."

For a long moment Renji didn't move, and Ichigo could almost see the lieutenant counting to ten, or whatever it was he did to stop himself losing his temper. Finally he cast a quick glance back over his shoulder, gaze taking Ichigo in from head to toe in one easy assessment and said, "Fine. But I say move and you get the hell back, okay?"

"Totally," Ichigo assured him, settling down just clear of the line which marked the location of the barrier. And he had every intention of obeying. From what he could glean, these things could become no holds barred, all out fights with little warning and he didn't fancy being in the middle of one of those.

Far over the other side of the field, Ichigo could just see Kuchiki and Urahara, who he thought he vaguely remembered from the living room at home. "Renji," he said as he tugged down his goggles and fiddled with the zoom. Everything got ultra small and then stupidly big before settling on something useful rather than, 'I can see the hairs up your nose' level of focus.

"Un?" Renji grunted in reply. 

If he glanced out the corner of his eye, Ichigo discovered, he could just see the lieutenant without having to move the goggles. Renji had his own goggles down and was staring across the field as well. He had to be worried, Ichigo guessed. He sure was. The servants seemed more inclined to gossip when Kuchiki and Renji were out of earshot and from what Ichigo had heard, this one was expected to be a doozy.

"Did Urahara come with you to arrest dad?" And kill us, he almost added except he really was doing his best to get past that. According to Renji they'd had good reasons and from what Ichigo had seen, they probably weren't lying. Whether Ichigo would consider them good reasons was a completely different question and one Ichigo didn't feel like addressing until this stupidity was out of the way. Let's avoid being a lab rat before we start pissing off the guys keeping you that way, seemed like sound strategy.

"He was part of the contingent from the 2nd," Renji replied. He'd turned his attention away from the judges area and was scanning the crowd. "There," he said after a moment. "58.2 by 2.74. That's Shihōin Yoruichi and the woman next to her..." His words faded out and then he said in a thick voice, "Okay, maybe now isn't a good time to be looking. Damn, they oughtn't to be doing that in public!"

Ichigo fiddled with his goggles, fingers fumbling. Not that he was in a hurry or anything. He wasn't a perv like Renji wanting to watch a couple of girls making out. What co-ordinates had he said again? Oh right. Left, left a bit more... Got it! "Fucker," he said as the couple came into view. "They're just playing cards." 

"That's gambling. Strong stuff for a kid like you." The grin Renji turned on him could only be described as wolfish. "Pervert," he added, good naturedly. "I told ya not ta look and there ya go looking." He seemed less stressed than he had when Ichigo had arrived though, so maybe the kidding around had done him good.

"Thought you said you didn't know how old I was," Ichigo grumbled tipping his chin up and trying to reorient himself on the field. Ah, there was the judge, and that was Kuchiki, which meant the blond guy in the pale grey was Urahara and yeah, seeing him closer to, Ichigo definitely remembered him. "He said something about mom," he said. The memories didn't come easy. Actually as the days past, he found his memories of home fading far faster than he imagined they ever would. It was a bit like looking at everything through a camera lens. It was clear and clean as if it was happening right now, but the emotion was gone. It was just images. Was this normal, he wondered. He guessed it would makes sense, otherwise how would people ever move on when they died.

"He did. According to him, she was a Quincy, but don't ask me what one of those is because I haven't the foggiest. You'll have to ask taichō... Okay, here we go. Barrier's going up."

As Renji spoke, Ichigo felt the buzz of power and something heaved itself into being from the atmosphere. Ichigo took his goggles off and squinted. In front of him, the air glowed and sparkled and then coalesced into a solid looking sheet just slightly tinted pale gold. And it sang to him. Not like a melody on the radio, but like a cool river on a hot day, or the sun on snow. It was inherently attractive and all he wanted to do was reach out and touch. His hand was moving before he realised and as his fingertips brushed against it, he felt it melt and merge into him, making his nerves burn and pulse and catch and wow!

Smack! 

Ears ringing, Ichigo picked himself up and gave his jaw an experimental waggle. "What the fuck?" he asked. "You hit me!"

Instead of answering, Renji pointed. Where Ichigo had been touching the barrier, there was a hole. Not a big one, but at the rate it was closing, Ichigo realised it must have been much larger to start with. "One thing I do know about Quincy," Renji said, "they adsorb reishi and that barrier is pure reishi. So stay away from it, okay?"

Considering how that little jolt made him feel, Ichigo planned on staying well away from it. Anything that felt that good had to be addictive. 

"You can stand up now," Renji added, his back to Ichigo, who got the feeling that he'd rattled the lieutenant a bit.

Ichigo stood up and went to stand beside him. "I didn't know it'd do that," he said after a moment.

Renji shrugged one shoulder, eyes fixed on the field. "Doesn't matter, just... If you feel like manifesting something, just don't, okay."

"Noted," Ichigo said and slipped his goggles back over his head. Kuchiki immediately sprang into view. He was standing a good hundred yards from Urahara and there was something that looked like cherry blossom spinning around his head. "What's that," Ichigo asked. 

"Senbonzakura," Renji replied, and added with a huff, "His sword's shikkai. It splits into a thousand tiny blades. That's what you can see."

Ichigo took another look. The things were spinning round the captain's body like someone had switched a disco ball light on over him. "Cool," he said. "What does Urahara's do?"

"It's called Benihime and it fires kidō blasts as far as we know."

No sooner were the words out of Renji's mouth than Urahara swung his sword. Scarlet energy erupted from the tip and flew in an arc across the arena towards Kuchiki. The flickers of light surrounding the captain flowed together into a moving pulsing mass that the kidō hit and everything exploded. 

Renji flinched, "Damn it, sound's too loud. Almost deafened me."

"You can get sound on these things?" Ichigo dragged them off his head and sure enough there was another little button on one of the earpieces that had the kanji for sound next to it. 

He flicked in on, popped the goggles back over his head and heard, "Sing, Benihime." The explosion that followed made his ears ring and he yanked the ear piece away from his ear. That way at least he should still be able to hear the commentary and the players' voices and not get deafened by the sound effects.

Refocusing took a moment and a moment more after that when he realised he had to latch on to one of the figures and allow the goggles to track them. It was like an odd combination of the active target seeking of a heads-up display from a video game and old fashioned binoculars. And then he had them. "Fuck!" Kuchiki was bleeding. Not badly, but Ichigo could see the darkened edges of the slashes in his shihakushō sleeves.

"Got caught in the backwash," Renji said. "That damned kidō's stronger than we thought."

"Is he gonna win?" As soon as he spoke them, Ichigo wished he could call the words back. They sounded beyond selfish. "Will he be okay, I mean?"

"You'd better hope so, kid," Renji said. "Unless you fancy getting strapped to a dissection table and watching your insides become yer outsides." The lieutenant sounded worried and that did not bode well for anyone.

"Sing, Benihime." Another wash of power and this time when it struck Senbonzakura's blades, Ichigo watched as Kuchiki used them to angle the blast up rather than trying to stop it completely. The scarlet spray slid into the sky where it dissipated against the barrier where it formed a roof over the arena. 

"Yes!" Renji snarled. "Now you've got him, taichō!"

Ichigo glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Renji had his fists clenched and was balanced on the balls of his feet. Ichigo'd bet money the lieutenant was fighting every blow with his captain.

Back to the action and Kuchiki finally stepped up to attack. The blades swirled around him, spiralling down into a tight ball that shot towards Urahara at twice the speed the kidō had managed. The third seat took one look at it and shunpo'd out of its path, only to find the blades were hot on his trail. He yelped and shunpo'd again, then again. Round and round the sky they chased, a game of cat and mouse in pink and red. Urahara stopping and blocking, releasing blast after blast of scarlet kidō that Senbonzakura caught and tossed and deflected, sending each to die into nothingness against the energy absorbing barrier. Kuchiki stood below, a statue of solidity and calm compared to the fleeing Urahara.

For as long as Senbonzakura chased, Urahara ran. Ichigo couldn't stop watching. Now he'd got over the sight of blood on Kuchiki's arm, he could deal with this. It was like the finest game of baseball he'd ever watched. Strategy at its finest. Minutes passed and it soon became clear that this had become a battle of attrition. Sooner or later one of them was going to miss, and when they did, the other would have the upper hand. An unacceptable situation for any player, Ichigo knew. One of them had to make the first move. And whoever did so was probably the one with the most to lose. 

Moments later Urahara dodged beneath the tide of pink, and immediately Senbonzakura swirled in to attack his rear. He tumbled, seemingly out of control, swinging his sword wildly. "Sing, sing," he was chanting and then, "Razor, sing, sing." 

Senbonzakura blocked and slid, gliding like solid cloud through the air. Each kidō fell into its clutches, sequential, predictable, and they were thrown away to fade ephemeral as flowers. Except for one, which swung from the top of the wave of pink and curved away in an arc, high and higher, sweeping back around and Ichigo saw Renji start, and he could see it himself. One of those blasts was different to the others. It was being controlled in the same way Senbonzakura's blades were controlled, by pure willpower. And Urahara was willing it home. Round it curved and down, slicing towards Kuchiki's unprotected back. 

"Taichō!" Renji yelled. 

It wouldn't help, Ichigo knew it. As much as they could see and hear what was going on inside, he was sure that everything outside was cut off from those within. "Fuck," he whispered. "Fuck, come on. Come on! See it, Kuchiki, see it!"

He wasn't going to. Faster it flew, swooping like the blade of a guillotine, trailing blood red streaks in its wake. Close and closer. Ichigo couldn't breath. Beside him he heard, "No. No fucking way, not like this." 

And then, like a tsunami hitting a mountain, Senbonzakura split and half the petals streaked towards Kuchiki, who sprang into shunpo. Now he was on the move as well. Attention split. Balancing defence and attack, keeping Urahara under pressure as he dodged and ducked away from the kidō that would not quit. It was like a ballet in 3D, with ten dancers all wielding lethal blades. Ichigo, heart in his mouth, tried to remember to breathe, managed to swallow, and found his throat too dry. He swiped his hand across his lips and realised it was shaking and there were crescents the same shape as his nails dug into his palm.

Too much, he thought. Crap, I hope the girls aren't watching this, but he could no more have dragged his eyes away from it than he could have taken flight. 

The dance continued. The speed was impossible, the near misses too many to count. Neither man was unblooded. Red, the same colour as his kidō matted Urahara's hair and Kuchiki's haori was destroyed all down one side. Blood spilled from his palm but his hands moved continuously sending droplets spraying across the sky as he sent Senbonzakura first this way and then that, driving Urahara before him, pushing him back again and again and again. 

"What's he doing," Renji whispered and then,"Oh, I get it."

Ichigo thought he did too. Kuchiki was herding Urahara back into a corner. Did he think to trap him? It might work, Ichigo thought, though there didn't seem to be enough of Senbonzakura's blades left to pin him properly. Had the kidō been destroying them? Ichigo dragged his attention away from the punch, punch, block fighting, and searched the rest of the arena for those tiny elusive blades. Hundreds lay scattered across the ground like cherry blossom cut down by some cruel winter wind. Urahara's kidō? Ichigo didn't know but it was having an effect, that was certain. Even a thousand was not so many that this kind of loss could be sustained indefinitely. 

"Got him," Renji said. And so he had. Ichigo caught a glimpse of pink and there, up in the top corner. The final move and Senbonzakura seemed to spin and swirl out and in simultaneously, it breathed, exhaling fast and long, and then sucked, flying in towards Urahara in a blinding globe of death. There was a scream and the whole thing fell, plummeting towards the ground almost too fast for the goggles to follow. When it hit the ground, the earth shuddered, groaned and split apart.

Around the arena cheers broke out, a few cries of, "Taichō, taichō," from the 6th behind them and then the globe splintered, and from inside it staggered Urahara, the remnants of some kidō falling away from him.

"Fuck it all, he has a shield as well?" Renji yelled, and Ichigo heard the cry of disbelief echoed from behind him. A chorus of voices over by the second rose in ragged cheer and several others around the arena joined in as Urahara dragged himself upright. He was bleeding copiously and his grey robe was shredded revealing a mass of cut and bruised flesh beneath.

Kuchiki landed gracefully some distance away, Senbonzakura reforming in his hand. It was damaged, Ichigo noticed. Nibbled at the edges as though some metal consuming insect had been eating away at it. "Urahara Kisuke, do you concede?" he asked in stentorian tones. 

Urahara seemed to take a moment or two to think about it and then shook his head, calling out with a voice that sounded sandpapered, "No, no, I don't think so. Why, do you?"

"You are all but on your knees and yet you ask me if I am conceding the bout?"

"Well, one has to try. If you don't try you don't get anywhere." As Urahara talked, he seemed to be getting stronger. The bleeding was slowing and his stance was straighter. Did shinigami all heal that fast? Come to think of it, Ichigo thought, he'd hardly noticed his ass at all this morning so maybe they did heal quickly. Yet another advantage to being dead. 

Senbonzakura as well seemed to be recovering. It wasn't as noticeable as Urahara but it was happening. Then between one blink and the next Urahara was gone. Ichigo's head jerked in shock and he heard Renji make a strange squeak, which made him turn straight to Kuchiki. There was Urahara and they were grappling sword to sword, except Kuchiki wasn't standing properly. 

"What the hell?" Ichigo asked.

"He caught taichō across the thigh," Renji said. "Any higher and we'd be out of a job."

Ichigo made a sound he didn't even know he could make and kept watching. The cut had obviously done some damage. As Urahara pushed his attack, Kuchiki faltered, his right leg failing and there was blood on the ground beneath his foot. "Scatter," he said suddenly and where there had been one blade now there were again hundreds, boiling around Kisuke's and sending him shunpo'ing away. But slower than last time. In this war of survival, Kuchiki looked to be winning, despite the injuries he'd taken. 

"I ask again, Urahara Kisuke," he called out, "Do you concede this bout?"

"I do not," came the reply.

"So be it." 

Kuchiki seemed to still and even Ichigo who, he knew, was inexperienced in these things, could feel the power gathering around him. Renji's expression was confused and then revelatory. "Aw crap, no, taichō," he muttered, "This is a one shot wonder. What yer gonna do if someone else turns up?"

"Senbonzakura, Second Viewing." Reiatsu spilled out from Kuchiki across the arena and, as it passed those splintered blades, they leaped back into life. Up and up they danced to join their fellows, more and more, shifting and growing and reforming until the number swelled to twice its original. They billowed across the sky, Urahara having no choice but to run from them. But this time they were merciless. Faster than he could counter, they were on him, driving him back and back, to the corner when he had failed before, and where Kuchiki was looking to see him fall again. From the look on Urahara's face, he knew it too. Once or twice he tried his old trick, sending out bolts of kidō that acted with a will of their own but with twice as many blades Senbonzakura could control them, pin them against the barrier until they dissipated into nothing. He couldn't win. He had to know he couldn't win. And yet every second that past was making Renji more and more agitated. "Come on, taichō," he muttered. "Gotta get him, it's now or never."

Finally Kuchiki had him. For the second time Senbonzakura whirled and breathed, exhaled and sucked, and Urahara fell. This time, before he hit the ground, reiatsu exploded from him sending clouds of dust and dirt high into the sky. Ichigo grunted with the sheer force of it and that through the barrier. What the hell, he thought, just as Renji began bouncing up and down, yelling, "Bankai! Bastard bankai'd! Forfeit, forfeit!"

Around the arena, the chant was taken up and a second later the barrier vanished and Ichigo found himself alone. Renji had tossed his goggles and shunpo'd straight to Kuchiki's side. The captain was down on one knee, blood pooling beneath him. He was breathing heavily and had with one arm across his chest. In his hand he clasped Senbonzakura's hilt and nothing more. There wasn't a sign of the multitudinous pink blossoms anywhere to be seen.

"Gangway," Renji called. He was coming back through, the captain in his arms and heading for the physician's tent. Ichigo trailed him, trying to keep out of everyone's way but also desperate to know what had happened. What had laid Kuchiki out like that? He'd seemed fine when he sent that last barrage in against Urahara. Had it been some final kidō? Or had that bankai thing done it?

As they vanished inside the tent, Ichigo stared after them, wondering if he could justify barging in and demanding details. He was still arguing with himself when a small hand slipped into his. He looked down into Yuzu's worried face. "Onii-chan?" she said, "Is Byakuya-sama going to be okay?"

Which was the important thing in all this. Screw _why_ it had happened, Yuzu was right. "I dunno," Ichigo replied. "I'll try and find out, okay. Stay with Kira and I'll come and find you when I know more."

When he reached the tent, Ichigo hesitated again. There were voices raised just beyond the canvas. Kuchiki saying, "I don't care about his personal proclivities, Renji, the situation is unacceptable. That someone of those skills is languishing as a third seat cannot be tolerated, he must be made to challenge for a division!"

There was an edge to Kuchiki's voice which Ichigo was at a loss to understand. Renji cut in, "I'm not arguing, taichō, I'm just saying it can wait. Let's patch you up first and then you can go get your hair off at Yoruichi-sama."

An irritated huff followed that made Ichigo grin as he imagined the expression that went along with it and then, "Yes, I suppose you do have a point. Oisha-san, you may proceed."

Another voice then, one Ichigo didn't recognise. "I'm sorry, my lord, but I'm going to have to put sutures in-"

"Yes, yes, just get on with it. Renji, go and wait outside. I don't want you cluttering up the floor when you pass out."

Ichigo hopped back, just in time to avoid Renji, who stalked out of the physician's tent looking deeply resentful and a bit pale. "What?" he hissed defensively when he saw Ichigo. He crossed his arms over his chest and Ichigo could see the muscle ticking in his jaw.

"Needles, huh?" Ichigo replied, keeping his voice down in deference to the patient but unwilling to let a good opportunity for teasing pass by. He leaned back against the tent post and adopted a casual tone. "Nothing wrong with that. My dad hates needles too. He said he tried being a doctor when he was younger but the first time he had to give an injection, he almost passed out, so he gave it up and became a mortician instead."

"I'm not scared of needles," Renji growled and yanked open his shihakushō. "Tattoos, see. I can't be scared of needles."

Except that was a completely different kind of needle. Having poked the guy, Ichigo gave him a break. "Okay, sure, not scared of needles." For a while they stood in silence and then Ichigo said, "Kuchiki sounds like he'll make it."

Renji, still looking a bit sulky, raised a tattooed brow at him and glanced back towards the tent flap. "Him? He's fine. Well, the hole on his thigh's a bit deep and his reiatsu's taken a pasting, but apart from that, the doc's got it covered." 

"So what was all the fuss about at the end there? I thought you were gonna have a coronary the way you were hopping around after he did that thing with all the blades."

Renji stared at him doubtfully for a second and then shook his head. "I can't tell you," he said.

The door flap lifted slightly and a man with grey hair and a tiny fluffy beard poked his head out. "His Lordship says, 'If you're going to insist on whispering, you can come inside and do it. At least then he'll be able to hear what you're talking about.' 

Ichigo exchanged glances with Renji and they both ducked into the tent. Kuchiki was reclined on a bed almost as quilted as the one he slept on. His hakama were off and his kosode was open and lifted to expose his groin and the top of one pale, well-muscled thigh. Ichigo took one look at the gash, now neatly stitched together and quickly averted his eyes, swallowing thickly. Damn, Renji hadn't been kidding. A inch to the left and Kuchiki would have been singing an octave higher.

"Well?" Kuchiki said, still sounding irritated. Ichigo did not envy his doctor. Kuchiki was probably a lousy patient. "You've spent five minutes whispering outside the door, I tell you to come in and the pair of you stand there like mutes. Was the conversation that private?"

"Taichō-" Renji began and Ichigo could see it coming. Renji was going to start one of his long drawn out pandering to the noble speeches that drove Ichigo nuts. Ichigo cut in over the top of him. "I wanted to know something about the fight and he was being a jerk and not telling me."

Renji glared at him as though he'd ratted him out as Kuchiki said, "What did you want to know? You did give him goggles, Renji?"

"Yes, taichō, and it was the technique we worked out between us that he wanted to know about. I..." Renji shifted uncomfortably, eyes dropping to the ground for a moment before he set his jaw and looked up. "I didn't think it was advisable to inform him of something that potentially exploitable, sir."

Kuchiki regarded him seriously and Ichigo got the sense that there was a whole raft of communication going on that he was missing completely. "Your concern is noted," Kuchiki said eventually and then turned to Ichigo. "Ichigo, the technique to which you refer is called Second Viewing. Using it allows me to reawaken any of the blades destroyed during a battle, however only for a limited period. This is one of its major flaws. Also if victory is not achieved within that window, then the technique fails, at which point its other, potentially more deadly, flaw becomes apparent. And I believe it is this which Renji hesitated to tell you. Reviving the blades uses a large amount of reiatsu, so large that it mortally damages Senbonzakura. It is, in effect, a technique which forcing the zanpakutō into suicide."

Fuck! Ichigo glanced around the room for the lavender wrapped hilt of the captain's sword. It lay on a cushion atop a low chest on the far side of the tent and Ichigo could see jagged shards poking from the blade side of it. "It's dead?" he asked, trying to get his head around the idea of killing your own sword. A voice echoed inside his head and he knew it was Zangetsu. The urge to reach out to him was almost overwhelming. He shook it off, now was not the time.

"Not permanently," Kuchiki was saying. "Thankfully our zanpakutō are more resilient than ourselves and its death is only temporary. However it will take several days to heal itself, during which time I will be unable to use shikkai."

"Or use it at all," Renji blurted. "Crap, taichō, you really screwed it up this time."

"Considering the circumstances, I had little choice in the matter," Kuchiki retorted and Ichigo got the feeling he'd come in on the end of a previous argument. 

"What circumstances?" he asked.

Renji took up the story, his expression sullen as he spoke. "The injury to taichō's thigh nicked an artery. He had to finish the fight quickly and not move too much or else he'd have bled out."

"Accurate and to the point, thank you, Renji," Kuchiki said and continued, "So as you can see, although the risk was high, the alternative was also impossible. Thus the risk was worth taking."

Except he could have forfeited. Ichigo was just some kid who happened to have been born to a father it turned out he hardly even knew and now people were doing stupid things and risking their lives in stupid ways to make sure he was safe, and honestly Ichigo sometimes felt like just walking away and keeping walking until he was somewhere where no one knew him and he wouldn't end up dragging everyone around him into hell. 

"You can have mine," he said, out of nowhere, but saying it, he knew it was the right thing to do. "You broke your zanpakutō fighting for me and you have another battle to fight, yeah? So you can use my zanpakutō to fight it."

His words fell into a silence so profound only the faint sound of the crowd from outside belied the possibility that he'd been struck deaf. The expressions on the two shingami's faces were impossible to read, like a combination of awe and horror and intrigue. Even the old doctor had stopped puttering around by his medicine chest and was staring at Ichigo like he had spinach in his teeth. "What?" Ichigo asked eventually, when it didn't look like anyone was going to say anything. "Don't tell me I've stepped in one of those sacrosanct things again."

Kuchiki seemed to shake himself. He blinked, took a breath to speak, frowned and then tried again. "Kurosaki Ichigo," he began, and then words seemed to fail him.

"What taichō's trying to say," Renji put in, "is that lending your zanpakutō to someone is kinda of the equivalent of giving yourself to them. I gave Zabimaru to Kuchiki-taichō when I swore my oath of fealty to him."

"I've already told him that I'll do as I'm told, so I don't see how this other stuff makes any difference," Ichigo said, confused. 

"And therein lies the the problem," Kuchiki muttered, drawing his kosode over his leg and grimacing as he turned slightly onto his hip. "A suitable asauchi will suffice, Renji. See to it."

"Hai, taichō," Renji said and went to leave. Ichigo grabbed his arm. "No! I'm getting fed up with people not explaining shit and getting left in the dark around the important stuff. If I'm gonna be this..." He waved a hand. "This Shiba noble thing then I've gotta know about oaths and fealty, and it's not something I'm gonna be able to pick up from books. I need someone to tell me." That last might have come out a little plaintive, but Ichigo really had had enough of being treated like a mushroom. "Come on, guys, please?"

Again Renji and Kuchiki exchanged glances. After a moment Kuchiki sighed gently and nodded, his gaze dropping. "I suppose we should at least make the attempt," he murmured. "Renji?"

"Taichō." The bow Renji gave him was deeper than he normally performed and oddly perfect.

"As my sworn vassal you have undertaken to follow my every command, even unto death. I desire of you a boon, Renji."

As Ichigo watched, Renji went down again, until he was in a full kowtow. He'd done it before, Ichigo remembered, when Kuchiki had done that thing with his reiatsu that had made Ichigo pass out.

"I live and die at your command, taichō." Renji was saying and Ichigo started to get a real sense of unease. 

It only grew as Kuchiki picked up his discarded obi to reveal a sheathed tanto. He held it out to Renji. "I would have your life, if you would give it."

As Ichigo watched, Renji reached out and took the small sword. His hands were steady as he laid it on the ground in front of him. Only when he started undoing his shihakushō did Ichigo summon up the gumption to speak.

"What the fuck?" he said, looking from Kuchiki to Renji and back again. "You can't just ask him to do that."

"Ah, but I can," Kuchiki said, apparently transfixed by Renji's actions. Ichigo glanced towards him and saw that Renji had loosened his hakama so they dropped down to expose his belly. He was going to do it? Ichigo thought he might puke.

"Stop him," he said, his heart rate picking up as Renji settled himself back on his heels, his face strangely peaceful.

"But this is what Renji offered when he gave me his zanpakutō. He gave himself to me to do with as I willed. Up until now, my will has been to train him and keep him close to my heart, but at any time I could have chosen this instead." Eyes like frosted obsidian turned on Ichigo. "Do you understand now what you were offering?"

Ichigo gulped, gaze flicking back and forth between Kuchiki's all too knowing face and Renji. Did he? Could he, even? This _thing_ between them, was beyond anything he'd ever come across. He'd known about it on an intellectual level. Read the history books, watched the samurai movies. But this was real. This was _for_ real. This was Renji leaning forwards and picking up the tanto and yes, actually, suddenly Ichigo did understand. 

In this airless tent with its scents of herbs and cloth and sweat, Renji would do this. Because that was what Kuchiki had asked of him. He had no will that was not his captain's, no task that was not given to him by his captain, no life except that which his captain gave. And in return... 

The sound of the tanto being drawn rang loud into the silence.

...in return Kuchiki would walk out into that arena and die for him ten thousand times.

The vastness of mutual responsibility lying between the two men threatened to break Ichigo's brain. He gasped, bending forwards, eyes closing, and his hand shot out to grasp Renji's wrist. It flexed in his fingers and Ichigo knew that if he opened his eyes he would see that blade against Renji's gut. "I get it, okay," he said through gritted teeth. "Now stop him, please."

Silence and then, "I think perhaps you do." A steely grip slipped into place below his own. "Now leave us. I will send for you later."

Ichigo gave Renji's wrist one last squeeze and bolted. Outside the tent he dropped to his knees and swallowed air, desperately trying not to throw up. Behind him he could hear the quiet murmur of voices in tones that spoke of comfort and reassurance and he didn't want to know any more than that. He clambered to his feet and staggered away from the tent, barging past a couple of servants – servants, they had servants. How had none of this sunk in before now? – until he found a water barrel. He tore the scarf off and dunked his head, leaning so far in that his toes almost lost the ground and submerged his head and shoulders entirely. The world faded to nothing. Ichigo opened his eyes, relishing the sting of the water, and tried to sort out his rioting emotions. 

He'd thought he had it sussed when he'd spoken to Zangetsu. He'd stopped thinking that Soul Society was a dream and that he was going to wake up and be home. But that wasn't enough. Oh fuck, no, that wasn't anything like enough. Out there today, watching Kuchiki fighting, the way he'd been thinking...

With a gasp, Ichigo surfaced, heaving himself upright and throwing his head back to flick sopping hair from his eyes. 

He'd been thinking of it in terms of a game. The words he'd been using in his head. Players, commentators. And sure, he'd been nervous, but it had been the same sort of nervousness that came before a football match. Until he had seen Renji, and really understood, he'd known it was real, but he hadn't known it was _for real_.

And now he did know? 

Ichigo grabbed the scarf from the ground, shook off the worst of the dust, and scrubbed some of the water from his hair. Now he did know, he still felt he should lend his zanpakutō to Kuchiki. Oh, he wasn't claiming that he could be anything like as obedient and well-behaved as Renji was. Nor was he suggesting that if Kuchiki handed him a tanto tomorrow, he could stick it in his own gut. But he wanted _in_ on what it meant. On that vast deep two-way street of responsibility and duty that Ichigo realised he'd been looking for pretty much all his life. When he swore to look after his sisters, he had meant it. Even unto death. When his mom was killed, Ichigo blamed himself because even as a little kid, it was his responsibility to protect her. As it was Kuchiki's responsibility to protect Renji, and Renji's to do the same.

So, yeah, he would lend Zangestu to Kuchiki-taichō, and deal with whatever happened next.


	7. Crashdown Crucifixion

Renji was sleeping. Byakuya adjusted his position carefully so as not to waken him and tried not to grimace at the unaccustomed sensation of sutures tugging against his skin. It was years since he'd needed such intrusive medical treatment. Normally kidō and his own reiatsu reserves were more than enough to deal with injuries he sustained in the field or challenge arena. This one, though, had been dangerous. Whatever Renji's protests at him using Second Viewing, it had been his only option.

Ah, Renji. Before today Byakuya had known Renji was his, but knowing and experiencing were as different as night and day. For Byakuya it had been the equivalent of knowing Senbonzakura would send a soul on and performing konsō for the very first time. Renji's steady hands on that tanto, the expression of unshakeable and yet peaceful resolve on his face as he held it against his own stomach, were a revelation.

Byakuya tightened his arm and used his lover's weight to allow him to move closer and still avoid strain on healing muscles and skin. "I am so unbearably proud of you," he murmured into blood rust hair, unexpected emotion clogging his throat. He had never felt his love for this loud, strong and yet so vulnerable man as powerfully before.

Last night had been wonderful enough. Sleeping with Renji, being able to share a few hours rest with him, was such a gift, and when he'd risen to stand his watch, Byakuya had lain awake for a long time, missing him and wishing it was Renji instead of Ichigo in the bed. Eventually he had resorted to holding the boy in the hopes that his body would at least take comfort from the closeness of another. It seemed to work since he'd slept passably well afterwards.

Renji shifted and a rough snort sounded against Byakuya's chest, followed by the unmistakable chill of wet cloth. On the other hand, there was that.

"Renji," he said, poking one solid shoulder. "You are drooling on my shihakushō."

"Eh? Oh." Byakuya jerked his head back as Renji awoke with his normal alacrity and nearly smacked him in the nose. A hand patted sloppily at his chest. "Sorry, taichō." A huge yawn and Byakuya expertly deflected the swinging elbow accompanying the stretch that echoed it. "Damn it, I must've dropped off."

"There is no need to apologise, you entirely deserved it." Byakuya had never intended to allow things to progress as far as they had, except Ichigo had been right. If he was to truly take up his father's mantle as Shiba clan head, he did need to understand the depth of what that entailed, and he'd been so close. Of course even if Renji had managed to plunge the tanto home, it wouldn't have been fatal. Any shinigami planning to commit seppuku would need a second to finish the deed, since only a beheading was truly fatal. Even so, it would have been painful and extremely unpleasant, not to mention debilitating for several days, so the emotional impact was not diminished. 

Renji had untangled them and was now sitting tailor fashion on the edge of the bed, grinning bashfully at him. It was rather like watching a very large tiger presenting a bloodied deer for approval. Byakuya resisted the urge to reach out and stroke, though both hair and ink called loudly. He contented himself instead with saying, "You did very well, Renji. Thank you."

A slight blush coloured his normally unembarrassable lieutenant's cheeks and Renji scrubbed at the back of his head where his braid was starting to loosen. "Thanks. Though, I feel like I should be thanking you."

"I would never have let it continue," Byakuya hastened, "Not for such a reason."

Renji was already shaking his head. Apparently Byakuya had misunderstood. "Yeah, no, that's... Hm. Actually I'm kinda glad you never told me that before." The faint blush had vanished, replaced by a more considered expression. "I was gonna thank you for giving me the chance. 'Cause, you never know, you know, until you're right there. Like going into battle for the first time. Sure you talk it up with the guys, but that's different from actually swinging your sword and meaning it for real. So, yeah, thanks."

So it had been a moment of self-enlightenment for Renji as well. It seemed Ichigo was due some small gratitude from both of them for being a hard-headed ignoramus. Only Isshin's son could turn that into a virtue, Byakuya decided.

He should also start to think about the upcoming bout with Kurotsuchi, since Renji was up and moving and thus bringing their enjoyable sojourn to an end. "I will need an asauchi," he said, sitting up straighter and feeling the pull of the sutures again. With a irritated huff he yanked back the dressing the doctor had insisted on using and poked at the wound. "And the physician. This in intolerable. There must be something he can do to stop the damnable things from restricting my movement so."

"That bad?" Renji came over to see, looming over Byakuya for a moment before hunkering down to run calloused fingertips up Byakuya's inner thigh. He shuddered at the touch and felt muscles pull that would be most inadvisable until his injury was better healed.

He reached out and wrapped his fingers around Renji's wrist, painfully aware of how it echoed his grip from earlier. Renji stared at it for a second and then looked up into Byakuya's face, a lop-sided grin on his own.

"I ever tell you how much I like it when you hang on to me like that, taichō?" he said, eyes brimming with mischief and love. 

Yes, Renji loved him. Byakuya had known this for as long as he'd known Renji, he thought, and yet they had fallen into such a rut between them; the necessities of Soul Society wearing away their connection until all that was left were those few moments they were able to snatch at the height of physical intimacy. Having Ichigo explode into their lives had certainly shifted them out of those predictable habits.

Though now was not the time to be exploring all the possibilities of this new dynamic. "The asauchi, Renji," Byakuya reiterated, and watched with, what he knew was probably a rather besotted and bemused half-smile as Renji got to his feet, waved a informal salute and left the tent.

The doctor returned shortly afterwards and replaced one of the stitches, much improving Byakuya's ability to move without hindrance. And since his other wounds were healing rapidly, thanks to the doctor's kidō, Byakuya decided to work on his reiatsu reserves.

Sleep, in the sort of quantities he needed was just not possible, so he opted for eating. It was not his preferred method of rejuvenation, rather too reminiscent of Yoruichi's eating binges to permit true comfort. Still, there was method in the Shihōin madness. Byakuya ordered several portions of bland easily digestible food and informed the steward he would eat it in the main tent.

When he got there, he discovered it already occupied. She was standing flicking through one of the books Byakuya had been reading earlier. It was a dry tome on military strategy which he found useful and yet could hardly be thought appealing to a young girl. Except, Byakuya was starting to get the feeling that Shiba Karin was not a normal type of girl. 

Compared to her sister, who was a girlie chatterbox of the kind his aunties would adore, Karin was a silent stalwart shadow. Though rendered more delicate by her gender, she strongly resembled Isshin in looks and each time he encountered her, Byakuya was reminded of those few times he had caught his old mentor in an unguarded moment. There was a serious, almost brooding side to him that was entirely at odds with his normally irrepressibly zany personality, and Karin seemed to have inherited the former and not the latter. Byakuya supposed he should be grateful for small mercies.

"Can I help you?" he said when she neither moved nor acknowledged him.

There was nothing for a moment, except the stilling of her fingers on the pages, and then she said, "I could feel you, you know. Coming towards the tent. I can feel all of you, like I'm plugged into some kind of dumb video game."

Byakuya wasn't quite sure what to say to that. He tried the educational approach since he was fairly sure anything reassuring would be taken as condescension. "You're sensing reiryoku," he said, "and if you are able to sense all of us, then you have excellent control. It is a skill you may wish to utilise later." 

"If I have a later." She turned around and Byakuya was hit by a sudden sense of deja vu. He remembered little from that fateful night, but one thing had stayed with him clearly. Isshin's eyes just before he had turned tail and fled, leaving Byakuya alone amidst blood strewn bodies. His eyes had looked like this. Defeated and yet resolute. Hopeless and yet uncompromising. She was her father's daughter indeed.

He took a step forward, thinking to comfort her with physical contact as Isshin often had him, only to see her stiffen up. She was also her own person then. So be it. "I will endeavour to ensure you do," he said, speaking from the heart rather than for false platitudes. Though there was something else he could offer. Would she welcome it, or assume the worst of him. Ichigo certainly would, but the choice had to be hers. "And if by some chance I should fail, I could at least ensure that your time in Kurotsuchi's hands is short." There, now it was up to her to read the offer as she pleased.

She frowned at him. Her arms were crossed over her chest, compressing her small breasts, and Byakuya could see the marks in her pale skin where her nails had been digging in. She'd been standing here waiting for him, he realised. Were there people out looking for her? If so, they should complete their conversation quickly before they were interrupted by the servants or others.

Her gaze drifted down and to the side, her frown never faltering. "Ichi-nii thinks we don't know," she said a moment later. Byakuya thought maybe she hadn't understood, until she added, "But Kira told us. I don't think Yuzu got it though, which I guess is a good thing." She looked up. "Was he telling the truth?"

"If his tales were full of terror and pain then yes," Byakuya replied, wishing not for the first time that he could expunge Kurotsuchi Mayuri and his kind from every part of Soul Society. They were a canker that had been permitted to grow uncontrolled and nothing but complete eradication would now stop them. 

Karin nodded once, then again more firmly, though her chin looked wobbly. "Then if you lose, please make it quick."

"That much I can promise you," he said and then stood aside as she practically bolted from the tent. To cry, undoubtedly, but Byakuya allowed that being alone was preferable for that. "Though I shall do my utmost to keep you safe entirely," he swore to her lingering presence.

*

Food bolstered both his spiritual and emotional reserves. Byakuya was just pushing aside a bowl of rice that he simply could not bring himself to finish, when a sudden strangely familiar reiatsu rippled across the camp. Ichigo. It was the same feeling that had prompted him to send Renji to his quarters the previous morning. The boy was manifesting again.

Renji poked his head in the tent a moment later. "Did you feel that?" he asked, before coming in properly. He was carrying a katana which he held out hilt first as he approached.

Byakuya took it and nodded. "I did. Do we know where he is?" The sword was an asauchi, but vastly inferior to his own blade. He unsheathed it and couldn't contain the grimace at the lack of anything within it. He hated using an unawakened zanpakutō, but time before the bout was drawing short and he would need it. His plans to use kidō in his battle against Kurotsuchi had been thoroughly scuppered by Urahara's prowess with shikkai. Which reminded him. "That man is a menace."

Mouth open and about to speak, Renji did a double take and then said, "I'm guessing you're not talking about Ichigo any more? Who, by the way, I have people tracking down as we speak."

"That's good and no, Urahara. Yoruichi has done herself no favours by allowing that man to languish as a third seat. She has been harbouring a potential disaster and encouraging it to grow to full bloom, an action that some will no doubt interpret as a deliberate attempt to undermine some of our founding principles. Before she may have excused herself through ignorance, but no more. With that display today, Urahara has proved what he is capable of and he must be made to contest a captaincy or I shall lead the charge to see him destroyed myself!" As he finished, Byakuya realised his hands were shaking and his breath was coming in short sharp pants. 

Renji was staring at him as though he'd sprouted another head, which in all honesty was not unlike how Byakuya felt. He hadn't allowed his temper to run that hot since he was a child. Normally he managed to chill it under calm, if coldly ruthless, logic. What had got in to him?

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and willed himself composed. Finally, when he felt able, he said, "My apologies. It is apparently a subject I feel strongly about."

"Yeah, I'm kinda getting that," Renji replied. "For what it's worth, I think you're right. The guy's got way too much strength to be able to go around challenging people willy-nilly."

"Which is precisely the reason the law exists as it does. Every captain is aware that he may be challenged by an up and coming lieutenant, with or without their captain's backing, but to have such strength stalking unchecked among us. The others will not tolerate it and neither will I."

"So tomorrow, first thing, you head over to the 2nd and tell Yoruichi-sama what's what. For now, you need to focus on Kurotsuchi." Renji's voice was placating and persuasive. It wasn't a mode which suited him.

Byakuya levelled a glare at him. "Are you handling me?" he asked, not entirely seriously. 

It was testament to the sudden leap of informality in their relationship that Renji only shrugged at the accusation. "I'm your lieutenant, taichō. If anyone's got the right to do it, it's me." 

"You are right," Byakuya admitted. "We should consider the bout to come." He turned his attention back to the asauchi. "Was this the best you could find?"

Renji pulled a face. "Yeah. I've got someone checking the quartermaster's and worst case scenario I could lend you Zabimaru."

Byakuya put up a hand, only realising when it rested on Renji's chest how close his lieutenant had come. "He is yours and I need him with you to protect my back. If anything should happen, you need him at your side."

"But taichō- " Renji began.

Byakuya pressed his fingers to Renji's mouth. "No. This I will not allow... and you will not persuade me otherwise." The latter came out a little breathlessly as Renji had sucked the tips of his fingers into his mouth and was running his tongue over them gently. Byakuya swallowed, his gaze fixed on the way Renji's lips looked stretched around them, and he entirely missed the sudden swell of reiatsu outside the door. Only Renji's sudden removal to a respectable distance and a voice saying in an embarrassed tone, "Ah, knock, knock?" told him they had a visitor.

It was Ichigo, of course. And he was wearing a new shihakushō and was carrying a katana in a black sheath with a lavender wrapped hilt not unlike Senbonzakura. He also appeared agitated and couldn't seem to look at Renji.

Byakuya cast an quizzical glance at Renji who smirked and said, "I'll go sort that out for you, taichō," and deserted the ship like the rat he was. Byakuya waited until he was gone before asking, "Was there something you required?"

Ichigo had been staring after Renji as though seeing a ghost. At Byakuya's inquiry, he jumped and spun round, flushing a bright red. "Erm, yeah, I... " He stopped, took a breath and started again. "I'm sure there's a whole bunch of words and rituals and stuff involved in doing this, but..." A few steps brought him close enough to Byakuya to touch and then, with a shallow bow, he held his sword out in front of him. "This is Zangetsu. He let himself be sealed so you can borrow him for the fight. So if you want him, he's yours." 

After what he'd seen earlier, the boy was still offering? Did he truly grasp the implications of his actions? Byakuya waited till Ichigo looked up and then caught and held his gaze, searching for the level of understanding and sincerity behind the act. What he found was iron-like resolve and an absolute belief in what he was doing. No child this, making ill-informed or misunderstood decisions. This was a man taking the first step on a path he had chosen, and Byakuya was not in a position to reject him. 

The only obstacle in their way was the tricky intersection of law and tradition regarding heirs and clan heads. Still it was a minefield that could be traversed with care and enough lawyers. 

Decision made, Byakuya said, "This will be complicated vastly when you come into your birthright, however for now, I accept your offer. Thank you, Kurosaki Ichigo." And reached out for the zanpakutō.

It came to him regally, with poise and self-possession. Byakuya balanced it across his palm, closed his eyes and brushed tentatively against its spirit. Masculine, yes, and unlike its wielder, mature. Mentor rather than servant or friend. This Zangetsu would serve Ichigo well, Byakuya thought. 

The sword itself was exquisite. When he drew it from the sheath, Byakuya almost felt a pang of jealousy. The balance was perfect, not really surprising given that he and Ichigo were of a height, but it swung with an ease that made it seem eager to leap into battle. Soon, he assured it, sliding it slowly back into its sheath. 

As he did so, the blade caught the light, gleaming a bright silver in the dull light of the tent and he stopped, examining it more closely. Oh, now that was interesting. A quarter of the way along the blade was an engraving, delicate enough to resemble a watermark in the steel, and though it was abstract, it was recognizable to Byakuya. A reworking of the Shiba mon, the burning poppy, with the kanji for fireworks on either side. Apparently the zanpakutō knew which clan its owner belonged to, a development that was oddly reassuring.

He might have said more, if a sudden stirring of noise from the crowd hadn't been followed by Renji sticking his head into the tent and saying, "Kurotsuchi's here, taichō."

"Thank you, Renji," Byakuya called as Renji vanished again. He turned to Ichigo. "You will watch from the lists as you did before?"

The boy looked stricken, as he nearly always did when Byakuya addressed him directly, something which made no sense when his forthright nature and, at times, rude attitude were considered. He was such a strange set of contradictions. Quite what the other noble families would make of him Byakuya didn't know.

"I guess. I don't want to cause trouble though."

It was hard to fathom a situation where he wouldn't. Still, Byakuya assumed he meant because of his shihakushō. "It is stretching the bounds a little, however since the declared challenge for you has been won, it could be argued that you are technically a person."

"You guys are strange," Ichigo replied. He was shaking his head as though in disbelief. "But yeah, I'll watch from the edge of the field. I wouldn't want to miss this for anything."

*

The crowd were roaring as Byakuya shunpo'd onto the field. The judge for this bout, a woman Byakuya remembered as a irascible old hag from before she entered Central 46, glared at him over her glasses. "You are late," she said, "I was about to declare the bid successful."

"My apologies, ma'am," he answered with the tiniest of nods. She may be a judge, but he was still a Kuchiki, and as clan head he outranked her as the sun outranked the stars.

She harrumphed at him and turned to Kurotsuchi. "Your bid?" she said.

Kurotsuchi thrust out one painted fist, and turned it over to reveal a single kan in the centre of his palm. "As captain of the 12th division of the Gotei 13, I bid my reputation as a shinigami for Shiba Karin, now hurry up and get on with it. I have experiments waiting and half of them will die if this takes too long."

"Rejected," Byakuya replied, falling quickly into the rote of it. "I challenge you to single combat, the weapon being sealed zanpakutō, the loser being the first to concede or be declared incapable of fighting. How do you answer?"

Kurotsuchi smirked. "Not shikkai? And I was so looking forward to seeing you lying there incapacitated. Never mind, I think I can manage. Let's get started." His expression took on a slightly dreamy quality. "That girl will be quite fascinating to take apart. What do Quincy and captain level abilities produce do you think?"

Disgusted, Byakuya turned to shunpo away, only for his foot to catch on the sandy surface. He grunted quietly as the movement jarred his still healing leg. 

"My, my, was your last bout harder than you expected? Who would have thought it. And from a third seat as well."

"You speak as though you didn't already know," Byakuya snapped. Despite the painkillers the doctor had given him, a dull ache throbbed in his groin. 

Kurotsuchi cocked his head like a curious crow. "Because he's a scientist, you mean?" His sly, greasy chuckle trickled out, polluting the air like one of his foul poisons. "How quaint. We don't actually hold monthly seminars and exchange notes. I would characterise that man as an inferior rival rather than a colleague.

"You, on the other hand," a skull-painted face was suddenly thrust into Byakuya's, "would make quite the interesting specimen. Is that three zanpakutō spirits I smell on you?"

Enough was enough. There was nothing to be gained by staying and pandering to this creature's affectations. Byakuya turned away and this time his shunpo was flawless, carrying him to his starting place in the large arena. 

Kurotsuchi appeared about twenty yards away a moment later and when the judge gave the signal, the barrier rose and the gong sounded. 

For the third time that day, Byakuya felt the world outside vanish. For someone accustomed to the continual pulse of others' reiryoku, it was a disconcerting experience, but one that Byakuya was familiar with. He pushed aside the slight disorientation it brought on, drew Zangetsu, and took his stance. 

Across from him, Kurotsuchi had already drawn his zanpakutō. His reiatsu was high at the moment and Byakuya was reminded of that very odd property it displayed. Unlike most shinigami, who released their spiritual pressure at a constant rate, Kurotsuchi's came in irregular waves. When it was high, he was close to invulnerable. Low and he could be cut as easily as an unseated recruit. Luck in timing was going to be at least pertinent in this fight.

"Would you like to attack first?" Kurotsuchi called. "I wouldn't want anyone to think you were put at a disadvantage."

Him? At a disadvantage against Kurotsuchi in zanjutsu? Byakuya felt like laughing. "I wasn't aware that you even knew how to hold your zanpakutō unless you were using it to carve up a corpse." Gods, but he loathed this man so much. 

So why was he waiting? Byakuya adjusted his stance to a more aggressive one and shunpo'd. White flashed in the corner of his eye and when he brought his blade down, Kurotsuchi was gone. Damn it! The man had dodged? He spun, wincing as the action made the injury twinge and searched the arena. The far corner. He shunpo'd and again, Kurotsuchi fled before him. What was it about these hell-forsaken scientists and their inability stand and fight like men?!

Kurotsuchi was cackling now, Byakuya could see him. His head was thrown back and his mouth was wide open. His neck was perfectly exposed, ripe for slicing. Another shunpo and this time as he arrived he was sure he heard someone count, "Three."

That made Byakuya pause and take stock. He must _not_ allow himself to get carried away. The discomfort in his leg increased with each shunpo and Kurotsuchi was cunning enough that he undoubtedly knew precisely how injured Byakuya was and in what way. Thus, all Byakuya was doing by giving chase was handing him the advantage. He should have realised that the moment he stepped into the arena. In any case, as the bidder, Kurotsuchi had to make the running. If the battle ran for more than three hours after sunset, he would lose, automatically. 

Having established the facts, Byakuya took his stance and watched Kurotsuchi across the arena. The 12th division captain watched him for a while and then shunpo'd within hearing range. "That's quite a sweat you're building up there, Kuchiki. You might want to be careful. Or does that redhead of yours like it when you get all hot and sweaty."

Byakuya ignored him. Or at least tried to. But it was difficult to ignore the fact that every shinigami in the arena heard that. And though his relationship with Renji was no secret, nor by any means unusual, look at Shunsui, or Ōtoribashi for that matter, it was not something he wanted dragged out in a fight and held up to ridicule. Thus he knew that his hands tightened and his heart rate jumped and his lips thinned. Kurotsuchi, of course, loved every second of it, which was why Byakuya had tried so hard to control his reaction. And now he'd found his vulnerability, like a good scientist Kurotsuchi would keep poking at it until it bled Byakuya's pride all over the arena's dusty ground.

"You know I had plans for that boy," Kurotsuchi called and began sidling closer. "A shikkai like that with no training whatsoever. Fascinating. A few tweaks here and there and who knows what kind of a subordinate I might have made of him. Instead I had to make one from scratch." 

He was about twenty feet away now. Byakuya could open his throat with one shunpo. Nostrils flaring, he dug into his reserves of calm and refused to take the bait.

"You have met my lieutenant, haven't you. Pathetic creature. I'd cut her up for spare parts except she has her uses. For instance, for an imbecile, she makes a passable spy. She can slip undetected into all sorts of interesting places." 

Closer still. Did the creature really think he could get away with this? 

"You and your lieutenant made quite the impression on her the other night, and right on the front porch of your quarters as well."

Byakuya's heart leapt into his throat, his vision blazed, and he shot forwards, Zangetsu held level before him and a kiai on his lips. He caught a glimpse of a shocked black-painted face, felt the blade bite and then Kurotsuchi was gone. 

Gone and left an arm behind him. Byakuya stared at the thing twitching on the ground at his feet, at the metallic cable lashing from the severed end, and raised his head to search for its creator. Kurotsuchi was yards away, just at the limits of hearing range again. His zanpakutō was back in its sheath and.... was he injecting himself with something?

Byakuya blinked the slight fuzziness from his eyes, shook his head and looked again. He couldn't be sure but Kurotsuchi appeared to be growing a new arm. "How is that even possible?" he murmured as the thing extruded from the shortened sleeve and unfurled like some obscene fast-growing plant stem. 

As it blossomed fingers, Byakuya went in for the attack again. With his sword sheathed, Kurotsuchi was essentially defenceless. Again Zangetsu bit and again Kurotsuchi escaped, this time with a slice that by rights should have split him in two. Damn it, Byakuya thought. His reiatsu must have peaked just as they made contact. Luck was against him. Everything was going against him. This should have been an easy fight, and yet every time he thought he had Kurotsuchi cornered, the slimy toad slipped away. 

At least the throbbing in his leg had gone, though he was starting to get pins and needles in his toes. That was very strange. He dabbed at his face with the sleeve of his shihakushō. Despite the lowering sun, the temperature seemed to be rising, and the air inside the barrier was still and stuffy. It made his throat dry. If he could finish this quickly, maybe he could get a drink. 

Kurotsuchi was calling out again. "Now, now, there's no need to lose your temper. I'll even let you have copies of the photographs. If I can get them back from the 11th. You're quite the hit over there with the rougher crowd."

His own division was hearing this. Byakuya shook his head. He could hear the jeers and catcalls, yet that wasn't possible. The barrier should prevent any noise from getting through. Which meant it was inside? How? There was only him and Kurotsuchi.

"Ah good. It looks like it's finally starting to work."

Byakuya blinked and realised he was swaying on the spot. The noise he could hear wasn't a crowd at all, it was his own breathing. His pulse thundered in his ears. His heart was racing, his breath catching. The pins and needles had spread until his whole body was alive with them.

Had he been poisoned? And if so, then how? He had deliberately specified sealed blades to prevent this very occurrence. And yet it would explain so much. 

Kurotsuchi's face appeared in front of him, black and white, and this close the texture of the paint was like the rough surface of cheap earthenware. Like a mask. A mask with eyes of boiled quail's eggs and teeth made of fried tofu. Slug lips moved and Byakuya stared at them, his head lolling as he tried to make out the words. 

They came and went in waves. "I dare say…. wondering how I.... simple really, for a genius.... already in your system.... set foot in the arena... emotional reaction.... raised heart rate.... numbing of the limbs.... fascinating side-effect.... fatal.

The man went on and on. Most of it drifted through Byakuya's befuddled senses like smoke on the wind, but some caught in the pockets of his mind. Though they too felt abstract and unrelated. 

He wasn't numb yet... He could still feel Zangetsu in his hand... If Kurotsuchi was this close, he could be hit... It wasn't too late... If he could be hit, then he could be killed... If he could just move... 

His fingers clamped around the zanpakutō's hilt and he lunged – only to topple ungracefully to the ground. Something crunched as he landed but he felt nothing. 

Sandalled feet topped by the hems of black hakama appeared in his eye line. And when Kurotsuchi spoke, his voice was as clear as a bell.

"And there you are. Numb from top to toe and quite unable to move, and yet all your senses are working nicely. Or will be soon. Quite the perfect poison, don't you think. And all I had to do to guarantee victory was step into the arena. Now, time to tell the judge to call the bout I think, and then...? Oh yes, then it'll be time to collect the girl." 

_No._ Byakuya screamed in his mind. _No, leave her alone. I will kill you. I will tear you down and destroy you and everything that you stand for._

He might as well have been spitting into a tsunami.

Dust had crept into his mouth, he could taste it on his tongue, muddy and strong. It puffed into his eyes, tiny motes clinging until he was blind from it. And with every breath it filled his nose, drawn down and down into his lungs. 

He convulsed. 

Was he dying? No! He couldn't die. It was bad enough he had lost, he couldn't die. If he died, there would be no one to give the order.

Karin. 

He'd sworn to protect her. Stood up in her brother's stead and promised. It couldn’t end like this, and yet he was at the end of all he had. Without Senbonzakura, there was nothing left.

Unless...

Was the sword even still in his hand? He couldn't know, but he had to try.

The sandals moved. Time was running out. 

Time had run out.

 _Zangetsu. I need you._ The words fell into emptiness. He tried again, a howl into darkness. _Zangetsu! Please! Ichigo needs you! Zangetsu!_

The world twisted and he fell. Fell without ending.

And landed in a half-crouch on what looked like a shogi board constructed of glass and metal. In the middle of a thunderstorm. A horizontal thunderstorm.

His first reaction was one of revulsion. This had to be Ichigo's inner world, no other place could be like it, so for him to be here was impossible and vile beyond imagining. Shameful. Even his uncle's abilities had never sunk this far. 

But then everything his uncle had done with Muramasa had been about force and compulsion. He had torn zanpakutō from their owner's and set them one against the other. Byakuya hadn't demanded to be here, he hadn't broken down any doors, he had simply asked for help. Although begged would probably be more accurate.

He stood up and looked around. From what little he'd overheard, Ichigo's inner world resembled a place in the Living World. An office complex, he'd said, though quite what one of those was, Byakuya didn't know.

After turning in a full circle, hands up to protect his eyes from the rain which was now falling in torrents, he was still none the wiser. This place was as strange as Ichigo himself. A complete contradiction. Tumultuous thunderclouds, and some kind of river lay to his right and left, the surface beneath his feet appeared to be the side of a tall building and another loomed above him in place of the sky. In other words, everything was off by ninety degrees. Even compared to his own inner world, this verged on bizarre.

And of Zangetsu himself there was no sign.

"I'm here," he called out, wondering if he was doing the right thing. "You permitted me entrance and I have come."

He heard the sound of metal links flowing against each other and then a blow caught him between the shoulder blades, sending him skidding forwards on the slick surface. Another one followed accompanied by a kick to the ribs.

Byakuya tucked and rolled, unsure as yet if submitting or fighting back was the correct response. If this were Senbonzakura, he would know. Here? He couldn't even begin to guess.

He spun as he found his feet, hands up to protect himself, only to discover his assailant gone. 

Attacked in silence by someone he couldn't see. That was not an act of bravery, that was an act of shame. And of punishment. Byakuya did not consider himself an expert in the workings of the mind, but he knew guilt and shame intimately. He could not allow this poor creature to suffer for his mistakes. It would be unconscionable.

"This is not your fault," he called out. "When you permitted yourself to be sealed and loaned away to my hand, you did not fail your master. I am the one to blame. I am the one who allowed himself to be poisoned. But it is not too late! Each alone we are helpless, yes, but if you lend me your strength-"

Again there was the sound of metal and again he was hit in the back, this time low enough to lift him from the ground. He flew, an ungainly tangle of flailing limbs and helpless grasping hands, to land in an uncontrolled tumble that sent him perilously close to the edge of the building. He scrambled closer to safety and knelt there, panting, and wondering what came next. 

When he realised he was staring at a pair of highly polished boots, he frowned and looked up. Towering above him was a tall, skeletally thin man of middling maturity and a terrible scowl, with steel grey eyes and ragged dark hair which looked as though someone had cropped it with knife. 

It was testament to the rest of his outlandish appearance that that part of him looked almost normal. 

The lower half of his face was completely obscured by white wrappings, which covered his mouth and nose entirely and continued down beneath, and here and there, on top of, a slim form-fitting black robe and tight hakama. What of his body wasn't entangled by the wrappings, was caught up in thin black chains, which also twined between his legs like a grotesque cat's cradle and, presumably had been the source of the noise. In his hand he carried the sealed Zangetsu.

Looking at him, Byakuya got a sense of vast power cruelly constrained. When Ichigo had said that his zanpakutō had allowed itself to be sealed, he had really meant it. For Zangetsu, this form was not the safe haven from chaos that it was for Senbonzakura. It was purgatory. 

"Zangetsu, I assume," he said, beginning to rise. 

This time, the boot caught him in the solar plexus, stealing every scrap of air from his body, and sent him skidding across the glass on his back. When he finally stopped sliding, he rolled, curling in on himself, one hand pressed to his chest. He couldn't breath. His ribs heaved, his diaphragm spasmed, but nothing happened. No matter how hard he tried, even a single scrap of air was beyond him. 

How deep the irony, Byakuya thought in the throes of suffocation, to come here for help and end up dying anyway.

Finally, when his vision was starting to darken, he managed the tiniest sip of air. It made him cough and retch but at last his lungs released. Precious air flooded back and for a moment all he could do was cough and pant, eyes wide and streaming with unbidden tears. 

This time he made no attempt to rise. In this place he was, apparently, as vulnerable as a child, since that was the last time any had managed to lay him so low without him managing to return a single blow. 

The boots returned to stand in his line of sight. He blinked at them. The chains extended even there, wrapped tight around the leather and biting deeply. However beautiful the outward appearance of his sealed zanpakutō, Ichigo could not be permitted to keep it this way. Surely the shikkai had to be less cruel.

But that presumed he would ever be in a position to speak to Ichigo again, a state of affairs that was becoming less likely with every passing second. If he was to have any hope at all, he had to win Zangetsu's help. 

"He needs you," Byakuya said, his voice sounding as torn as it felt. "Without your help, his sister will die in the most terrible of ways."

 _Why should I care for his sister?_ The words echoed directly into Byakuya's mind. _My concern lies with him and him alone. And if you are dead then he is free._

The sword swung to rest against Byakuya's neck, the pressure enough that he could feel the slight sting of it as he breathed. He hadn't actually considered this possibility. But Zangetsu was right in a way. If he was dead then Ichigo would be freed from this haphazard oath. It was even possible that between them, he and Renji could hold the 6th. They may even be able to win Karin back, although that would be an infinitely more difficult undertaking and would take time the girl wouldn't have.

No, despite Byakuya's failure on the field, strategically, he was still a vital part of any satisfactory outcome to this scenario. But how to get Zangetsu to see that?

Byakuya thought about Ichigo's desperate attempts to save his sisters before he killed them, of his demands to see them, of his absolute determination to keep them safe. He thought about the love in their eyes when they looked at their big brother, and the way he regarded them in return, and grasped at an answer.

"If Karin dies, a part of Ichigo will die as well. You have to know this; you are him."

The tip of the sword wavered by barely a millimetre. _He has lost parts of himself before and survived_

He had? His mother, of course. Byakuya had forgotten. So much for that then. Although...

"Could he really blame himself for that death? He will for this one, of that much I can assure you."

_He believes that he killed her. Is that blame enough?_

Oh yes, that was most definitely enough. So what now? He could offer to release Ichigo from the oath himself, he supposed, except no, that would mean nothing. This was no legal nicety to be tip-toed around. What Ichigo had given when he handed over Zangetsu was an oath of the soul, as proven by Byakuya's presence here in his inner world. 

But what of his own oath, implicitly sworn when he had accepted it? That could perhaps become the basis for some common ground.

"Why allow him to suffer when we, as allies, can save him from that pain?"

_You would have me throw my lot in with you again? You who have brought him nothing but pain from the first moment you stepped into his life?_

Byakuya hated to admit it, but he was getting desperate. The zanpakutō was as contrary as its master and each twist and turn of logic that Byakuya attempted ran up against the same obstinate determination and irrational argument that Ichigo had displayed the first night Byakuya had had him. And this time he couldn't even resort to thrashing some sense into anyone.

"Then allow me to atone," he tried desperately. "If I am to blame for his pain, then give me the chance to spare him more."

 _It is not him you wish to save,_ Zangetsu said. _It is yourself._

"Only so I can save the girl!" Oh this argument was going nowhere. He'd shoved the tip of the sword aside and was on his feet before he really thought about it. And when he looked down, he found the twin of Zangetsu's blade in his hand.

So this was what he had needed to do all along. Of course, how foolish of him. He had been trying to rationalize with a zanpakutō as though it were a shinigami. Mentor figure or not, zanpakutō understood only one thing, strength and the desire to get stronger. Bowed by his own failures Byakuya had allowed himself to become weak. In order to win here, he needed to prove his superiority.

"Without me, he will not reach his full potential," he said, raising the sword and levelling it at Zangetsu. 

The zanpakutō did the same. _We shall see._

They came together in a flash of shunpo and steel. Zangetsu had the clear advantage in reach, Byakuya found his in speed. Again and again they clashed, the sound of their battle echoing back at them as thunder from the lowering clouds. Drenched by the deluge, his shihakushō clinging like a second skin to his body, Byakuya fought with everything he had. He put aside failure and shame. He discarded humiliation and fear. Hatred and even love were forgotten. In this moment there could be nothing but the impact of blade against blade, the clever twist of a feint, and the unrelenting urge to win, and win at any cost.

_Which is why you will lose._

The world turned upside down. Byakuya fell with it, his body helpless in gravity's hands. When he landed, it was much as he had first arrived, on his knees with his head bowed, except now Zangetsu stood before him.

Byakuya looked up, into eyes that seemed to glow with Ichigo's compassion. "I will lose because I want to win?" he demanded, feeling logic slipping away from him yet again.

_No, but because if you win at any cost, then what you fight for will be lost as well._

Brief flashes of memory flickered through Byakuya's mind. Isshin, Gin, Yoruichi. Renji. Ichigo. Karin. Yuzu. The people he had lost, and those he stood to lose, by desiring victory above all else. He condemned the scientists for making monsters. He blamed Soul Society for feeding corruption. And yet he had never taken the time to look at what he was doing to those close to him.

Was he any better? When he ignored Renji's love for so long, dismissed Ichigo's pain, and wilfully forgot the good memories of his childhood in favour of hatred and loathing, was he any different? The monsters he created were loneliness and isolation. His corruption, arrogance and base assumption. 

Only in the last few hours had he started to see. In order to be truly strong, he needed to be weak. In order to receive, he had to give of himself without holding back. 

Was this the lesson he needed to learn, and if so, how should he express it? Here in Ichigo's inner world, Byakuya felt certain Zangetsu was expecting more than simple words.

Ichigo. What would Ichigo do?

And suddenly the solution to Zangetsu was obvious.

Without a second thought, Byakuya laid his sword at the zanpakutō's feet and said, "Here is my strength. Do with me as you will."

He opened his eyes to dusty ground and the sound of Kurotsuchi's voice droning obscenity. Nothing had changed, and yet everything had changed. He still couldn't move. Kurotsuchi was still about to be declared the winner of the bout. But now Byakuya was not facing him alone. He could feel Zangetsu around him and within him, stern yet comforting. A stalwart friend and advisor. A mentor. 

_Are you ready, Byakuya?_ Zangetsu asked.

_I am yours to command._

Zangetsu's power surged through him. Lifeless limbs sprang into action, raising him high and thrusting him forwards. He lunged, piercing that thrice damned 12 through and through. Kurotsuchi shrieked in pain as Zangetsu yanked on Byakuya's tenuous reserves and released a massive blast of raw reiatsu, blowing a head-sized hole through the impaled captain's body. Even a roach like Kurotsuchi couldn't survive his heart being obliterated. 

With another shriek, this one of outrage and frustration, Kurotsuchi drove his zanpakutō through his own throat and exploded into reeking viscous slime. "Damn you!" his voice came, resounding through the ether. "I needed that girl! Needed her! You will pay for this, Kuchiki!"

Byakuya staggered, Zangetsu's power draining from his limbs. The paralysis was spreading again. He sank to the ground, sheer relief outweighing every other emotion, but he couldn't allow himself to let go just yet. In the west, the sun hovered over the horizon. Once it disappeared then it would be over. Then the children would be safe. 

"Taichō!" Renji's panicked bellow was unmistakable. 

Ah, Byakuya thought, just as his arm gave up the fight and sent him sinking ground-ward, they've dropped the barrier.

Strong hands caught him before he could collapse entirely. He peered up into Renji's face and thought, 'how strange, he looks like he's been crying.' 

"It's not.... fatal, Renji," he tried to assure him, only to find he had to pace the words around ragged breaths. Perhaps he wasn't quite as well as he'd assumed.

"Only if you're careful," Renji was saying. And those were tears. He was brushing them away with the back of his hand. Byakuya would have given the world to be able to lift his hand and catch one. "I asked the doc and he said, if it's what he thinks it is then you have to stay still. If you move around too much, it'll effect your heart and lungs and then you could die." 

"I would agree with his diagnosis."

Byakuya looked up to find Unohana standing beside them. He felt the tension drain from Renji's body. "It's only you. Thank f- er, flip," Renji said. "Can you do anything to help him?"

"I'm afraid not," she said, and there was something in her tone that set every alert singing in Byakuya's tired abused body. "Kurotsuchi-taichō's poisons are very effective. Only time will allow him to heal properly."

"Oh, right," Renji replied. "Still, thanks for coming to check. I guess I'd better get you back to base then, eh, taichō." He went to stand, but Unohana wasn't finished.

"That was not why I came," she said, holding out her hand and Byakuya knew precisely what was coming. 

A coin dropped into the dust beside him, and Unohana said in a quietly implacable voice, "I, Unohana Yachiru, captain of the 4th and 11th divisions of the Gotei 13, bid my reputation as kenpachi for Shiba Yuzu." She paused and regarded Byakuya almost sadly. "I would strongly advise you concede, Kuchiki-taichō. You are in no condition to challenge the bid."

"What!" Renji exploded. "You can't-!"

"Renji!" Byakuya admonished, and then coughed as he felt his heart jump and race. "She is within her rights." He had failed. The sun may have brushed the horizon but once the bid was made, there was no overturning it.

Renji dropped back beside him, face full of concern and fear. "Taichō, you can't!" His voice lowered as he came closer, gathering intensity. "You'll die if you do this."

"Then I die. Renji, I cannot concede without even trying. How could I live with the dishonour if I allowed fear for my own life to override the promise I made to Ichigo."

"But- but." Surely Renji knew better than to argue with that. Apparently he did. "Then let me!" he said. "Let me fight her instead of you!"

"You cannot defeat her," Byakuya replied. He tightened his fingers around Renji's sleeve. "And even if you could, you are not permitted to fight in my stead."

"Do you concede, Kuchiki-taichō?" Unohana inquired. She was so calm, so mannerly in her unspeakable righteousness that Byakuya wanted to wreak devastation down on her for all eternity. 

"I do not," he said, ignoring Renji's urgent, "Taichō, taichō!"

"Then you challenge?"

"I do." He gathered his thoughts. What were his options. Blade and shikkai were out, Ichigo had no bankai, even if he could persuade Zangetsu to let him use it which he doubted, which left kidō. His reiatsu reserves were pathetic but he should be able to survive for a short while, if he could stand. 

He struggled to sitting from Renji's lap, breath already coming short in his throat. "I challenge you... to single combat... the weapon being..."

"Fukutaichō!" Renji cut in.

Byakuya stopped speaking and stared at him. Too taken aback to do anything else.

"Why not?!" Renji demanded, his expression excited and absolutely determined. "I'm yours as much as Senbonzakura is, so why not choose _me_ as the weapon?"

"Because you are a person, Renji. A person cannot be a weapon." 

"Then screw being a person!" He bent close, his fingers twisting in Byakuya's haori. "Please, taichō. I know you can do this, you can make her accept this. Please, don't go out there and die when I can save your life." Closer still, until their faces touched, cheek to cheek, and Byakuya could feel Renji's body shaking as he whispered brokenly, "Byakuya, please, don't do this to me. Let me give this to you."

It was the use of his name that brought Byakuya up short. Renji used it so rarely and when he did, he always spoke it like it was something to be treasured. Here, now, he was holding it out, as he once had Zabimaru, but instead of his captain or the powerful head of a noble clan, he was giving it to Byakuya. Just Byakuya, the man he loved.

 _In order to receive, he had to give of himself without holding back._ That lesson he had learned under Zangetsu's tutelage.

 _Let me give this to you._ Did the same apply in reverse? Did he need to receive freely in order to give? Byakuya dragged his hand up to Renji's hair and tugged him round so he could see his face. Ignoring the tears, he searched for the truth. It had to lay here somewhere. 

Renji smiled damply at him in that cock-eyed way he had and said simply, "I love you." And there it was. 

"Unohana-taichō," Byakuya said, not taking his eyes from Renji's face. "My weapon of choice is my fukutaichō, the loser of the bout being the first to concede or be declared incapable of fighting. How do you answer?"

Unohana, for all her merciless determination to see this through, did not break step. "I accept. Please allow me a moment to collect my weapon." She turned to Renji. "Abarai-fukutaichō? You should remove your captain to a safer location. Closer to the edge of the lists, perhaps."

*

When they arrived, Ichigo was there to meet them, waiting a few yards inside the boundary, his face twisted up with concern. "What the hell's going on?" he demanded. "What was that other captain doing there?"

"That's Unohana-taichō," Renji replied. "She's captain of the 4th and 11th. Healing at the 4th, combat in the 11th. She was too good at both to drop either division, so she's got two. Her lieutenant basically runs the 11th though. She's pretty hands-off most of the time."

Byakuya used their conversation as a useful distraction from the uncomfortable experience of being lowered to the ground from Renji's arms. That was the second time today he'd been carried from the field like a fainting maiden. No wonder there was talk. Which reminded him. He gripped Renji's sleeve before he could stand up again. "Renji, about what Mayuri said. The photographs."

"I'm on it, taichō. Security at the manor's been informed and so's HQ. If there's anything, we'll find it."

"Thank you, Renji." 

He would have said more, but Ichigo had processed Renji's explanation and had apparently turned his interest to Byakuya, or at least his condition. He glanced down at Byakuya, who was trying to find a way of lying that wouldn't leave him too vulnerable, and finding it impossible with semi-paralysed limbs, and then shot an accusatory look at Renji. "Why're you sticking him down there? Doctor's tent's that way, doofus."

"Because Unohana has bid for your sister Yuzu," Byakuya put in before Renji could answer. "And I must answer it." 

Now he had Ichigo's full attention. "But you can't even stand up." It was half statement, half accusation, and all fear.

"That's why it's me doing the fighting," Renji said, tugging Zabimaru out of his obi and slinging it up on his shoulder. With his cocky grin and 'don't screw with me attitude' he looked just like the boy who had caught Byakuya's attention all those years ago. How different his life would have been had he not attended the proving ground that day.

"You?" Ichigo was saying, his tone more mocking disbelief than anything else. "You're fighting a captain?"

"Hey!" Renji said, bristling, "I have bankai, you know!"

"I don't even know what that is and I bet I could still beat your ass!"

"Only in you dreams, punk!"

"Even in yours, asshole!"

"Order!" Byakuya snapped as they began posturing above him. One more exchange and he would have been in danger of being trampled underfoot. Raising his voice made him cough and he gained a sudden insight to how Ukitake's life must be when he was immediately inundated by solicitous concern.

"You've gotta stop shouting, taichō," Renji chided, kneeling beside him and helping him slip off his haori and then turning it into a pad for him to lean on. "S'only gonna make it worse."

Ichigo chipped in. "Yeah, you should listen to him." He reached over and picked up Zangetsu, handling the blade with an astounding amount of respect considering his normally cavalier attitude. "The old man did good for you then?"

"He did, very much so. I owe you and your zanpakutō a great debt of gratitude, Ichigo," Byakuya said and it felt good to actually allow himself that. Before he would have worried about the implications of saying it, how it would look to those around him, but now... Perhaps, after all this time, he was truly grasping the meaning of honour. A strange lesson to have taught him by a child not yet two decades old.

Ichigo blushed and looked as though he wished the ground would open up and swallow him. "It's nothing. I mean, shit, look at you, on death's doorstep and you're still fighting. Lending you a zanpakutō was the least I could do." 

If making light of the gift allowed him to keep his peace of mind, then Byakuya would permit it to pass unremarked. "Indeed," he said, and turned his attention to Renji. "What do you know of Unohana's fukutaichō?"

"His name's Yamada Seinosuke. Kira's not said much about him but I'm guessing, as lieutenant of the 4th, he's probably a good all-rounder with an emphasis on healing kidō."

"I concur," Byakuya agreed. "According to my uncle's records, his zanpakutō is called Yabuka, Mosquito, and his shikkai is a kidō type. He is said to use it to extract reiatsu from donors to aid in healing, a technique which for him requires physical contact. If that is true then such an ability exercised in the arena is only dangerous to the unwary. You have distance. Use it.

"However that may not be the full extent of his abilities. Yamada is best known as a healer, yes, but over the years I have also heard rumours that his zanpakutō is a powerful combat type capable of inflicting sudden and devastating injury. The truth of that I do not know, but whichever is correct, kidō or combat, do not underestimate him, Renji. Unohana would not have agreed to this if she did not think he could win."

"I won't, taichō," Renji nodded, bowing his head a little. "And I won't use my bankai either."

That was unacceptable. "Renji, if-" 

Renji's jaw set stubbornly. "No, taichō. You said it yourself, it's not ready for battle. Plus if I use it in public, how's it gonna look when you go after Urahara's ass. You know there's gonna be some who'll throw it straight back in your face, and me being just a gaki ain't gonna make a scrap of difference to the likes of Hirako."

And then Renji doubted his ability to swim with the political sharks at the highest levels. In some ways he had more insight than Byakuya did. There were times when clan and class created its own blind spots. "Then so be it. For now we will keep it hidden," Byakuya conceded, if reluctantly.

He turned his attention to Ichigo. "You must leave now and wait outside the lists. If you are within when the barrier rises, we will forfeit automatically."

"Right," Ichigo said, leaping to his feet. Rather than leave immediately, he stood there bouncing Zangetsu in his hand, looking confused and embarrassed. 

Byakuya took pity on him. "Take your zanpakutō with you. I am in no position to wield it and, in any event, I have Renji to watch over me should I need protection."

Ichigo shot a quick look at Renji and then back at Byakuya, clenching his fist around Zangetsu's sheath, then he bobbed a bow and sprinted away. He wouldn't be far, hardly more than two hundred yards, but when the barrier rose it might as well be a lifetime. Byakuya tried not to feel vulnerable; he did have Renji after all.

"No need to look so worried, taichō," Renji said and Byakuya was about to retort with a short denial when he reconsidered. Renji wouldn't say that out of the blue, which meant he'd detected something about Byakuya's expression or carriage which had alerted him. Thus denying it would be a lie, and an unnecessary one, designed only to save face. Something he should not feel the need to do in front of a lover.

Instead he said candidly, "I suspect it is pure instinct. The idea of being trapped here, helpless, within the barrier with no means of personal defence, knowing that a battle will commence shortly."

Renji looked at him for a second, then gave himself a shake and said, "Yeah, okay. When you say it like that, feel free to look as worried as you like." 

Yamada and the judge, one of the most senior members of Central 46 this time, appeared several yards away. 

Renji fished in the front of his shihakushō, dug out his goggles and tossed them to Byakuya who almost fumbled the catch. "Just remember though, taichō. I've got your back. He'll have to come through me to get to you." And before Byakuya could admonish him for unpropitious speech, he'd shunpo'd over to join them.

*

Being part of the audience was in many ways more stressful than being a combatant, Byakuya remembered several minutes into the bout. With Renji's goggles perched on his face, he was able to follow the action closely and so far it had been conclusively in Renji's favour, and yet there was something about the flow of battle which Byakuya didn't like.

Take this encounter, for example. As he'd been watching, Renji had unleashed Zabimaru, the long whip-like sword sweeping in a tight arc and catching the much smaller Yamada a glancing blow to the lower back as he shunpo'd slightly out of range. A second flick of Renji's wrist and Zabimaru swept round from the other direction, this time striking Yamada on the right leg as he dodged out of range. The third attack went similarly, this time the blow landing on Yamada's arm. Then in the short break before Renji was able to unleash Zabimaru again, Yamada healed himself.

So far each exchange had been identical. Yamada had made no attempt to penetrate Renji's defences and steal his reiatsu, despite being obviously proficient enough at shunpo to risk an attack. Why? It made no sense. Even if he healed every injury he sustained, eventually Yamada would either drain himself dry or run out of time. Even as they fought, the sun had set and the arena was now lit with the bright pinkish glow of several hundred low level kidō. It had the odd effect, even through the goggles, of making everything appear bathed in a thin film of bloodied water. 

Unohana was just visible beyond the combatants, standing at the far edge of the arena. She wore no goggles, Byakuya realised as he glanced briefly over at her. In fact she was standing with her eyes closed, as though the outcome were so predictable, she had no need to watch. A picture of utter surety and poise, she presented the perfect tranquil backdrop to the chaos of the battle before her.

Byakuya knew he should be the same, and yet he could not find the needed distance. Whether it was the lingering effects of Kurotsuchi's poison or the fact that it was Renji fighting, he didn't know, but every blow demanded his attention. He turned back to the fight to see Yamada retreating yet again to heal more wounds. Would he use kidō perhaps? Was that his strategy? 

Again Renji unleashed Zabimaru and again Yamada took damage before shunpo'ing away. No, Byakuya thought, there was something amiss. That had been a dodge, yes, but it was too slow. Perhaps his injuries? No, that didn't feel right.

Another lash of the snake-tail and this time Renji hit home. Yamada was knocked clean off his feet. Renji flicked his zanpakutō around for another strike and suddenly Yamada was in his face, sword extended and going for a killing thrust through the chest. Renji shunpo'd clear but Byakuya saw the bloody trail he left behind him and the rent in the front of his shihakushō when he stopped. His reiatsu had also dropped significantly. Was this the leech effect of Yamada's shikkai in action?

Byakuya adjusted the zoom on his goggles, reassured himself that the physical injury was superficial, and then muttered, "Now be more careful. Had that been a second faster, you would be dead and that cannot be borne. Keep him at arm's length."

Even out of hearing range, it seemed as though Renji heeded his advice. Instead of remaining static between attacks, he now moved, shunpo'ing around the arena and sending Zabimaru in from all directions with attack after attack. 

The stolen reiatsu permitted Yamada to stay ahead of the damage for quite some time, however once it was exhausted, it soon became obvious that the damage was starting to have a cumulative effect. His shihakushō was shredded in several places and his kosode was soaked crimson at the neck with blood. Some of the injuries Renji was inflicting were severe enough to demand healing while Zabimaru was still extended, and that often came at the cost of incurring more.

As Byakuya suspected he might, Yamada managed to release several blasts of kidō – primarily shakkahō and byakurai – neither with incantations which made them fast but far less destructive than they might have been. Renji avoided or blocked them all. He had much practice in doing so.

Another kidō splashed across the arena – sōkatsui, this time unleashed by Renji, Byakuya observed with pride. Though Renji was proficient in the demon arts, his high level casting could be erratic, especially without incantations, and that had been perfect. Yamada took it head on. When the smoke cleared, Byakuya could see that the man was finished. He could hardly keep his feet. Smoke wafted from his clothing and hair, and his skin was scorched black and bloody in places. To continue much longer would be to invite death. He was even unable to hold his sword upright. It rested on the ground between his feet, Yamada leaning against it, breathing heavily.

If the zanpakutō were also a combat type, it didn't appear to change shape or substantially increase its wielder's reiatsu. And he hadn't noticed any enhancement of kidō or shunpo either. In fact, if it weren't for the leeching effect he'd witnessed, Byakuya wouldn't have thought Yamada in shikkai at all. Perhaps there was nothing to this but baseless rumour. He zoomed in for a closer look.

The zanpakutō appeared to be a normal katana, with a solid brass tsuba and an amber wrapped hilt. The only thing even slightly out of the ordinary was a narrow green stripe along the centre ridge that was so bright that it almost seemed to glow. 

No, he thought with a sudden chill. He was mistaken. There was no 'almost' about it. The stripe was glowing.

Byakuya lifted his eyes to Yamada's face, saw his lips moving and yelled, "Renji! Duck!"

He was too late and far too far away. The bakudō caught Renji full in the chest. Level 61, rikukōjōrō; it snared Renji in place like a pin through a butterfly. 

Byakuya struggled to his feet, his heart fluttering, his breath tight in his throat. Something had gone very wrong. He didn't know what was coming, but he knew it was going to be terrible, and he had to get there, he had to stop it. The rumours he'd heard about Yamada flooded Byakuya's mind. Clever, cruel, calculating. A bully. His shikkai could cause horrific injuries and yet none knew how he did it. 

Feet dragging, Byakuya staggered forwards, a single step of lurching shunpo at a time. As he went, he began to incant - "Ye lord! Mask of flesh and bone, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of man!"

The power built under his heart and he knew that to release this level of kidō in his condition would be death, to himself as well as any who stood in its path. 

But even sōren sōkatsui, powerful as it was, had a limited range and Renji was far beyond it. Too distant for Byakuya to reach, no matter how he urged his broken body forwards, no matter how much he ignored the pain in his heart and his straining lungs. 

Renji was speaking, yelling, calling something but Byakuya couldn't hear him. Could hear nothing except the thundering of his pulse and the words that fell into the echo of every step. 'Too late. Too late.'

How had he managed to miscalculate so badly. This entire day, this entire affair. Everything from the moment Isshin had lifted his blade against the Kuchiki in that unexplained act of violence had been nothing but a series of unlucky stumbles and miscalculations. And they had brought him to this. To death. To Renji's death. 

At least if it were his own, Byakuya thought, there would be some justice to it.

Faster. He was so close! How could he be so close and yet still fail!

He could see Renji hanging from the bakudō like a trapped animal waiting for the killing blow, helpless, and yet his mouth still curled in defiance, his eyes shone with determination. Zabimaru may dangle from his lifeless fist, but Byakuya could hear the nue's howling rage in his mind. 

Yamada's grip on his zanpakutō tightened, his expression twisting into a malicious snarl. His blade lifted, the stripe now throbbing in time with Byakuya's heart. 

Then, between one step and the next Byakuya's body stopped responding. Like a stringless puppet, he tumbled, limbs numbed once more and powerless to prevent Yamada releasing his secondary shikkai technique. 

But there was still one thing he could do.

"Renji!" he yelled, feeling his lungs bursting under the strain. "Use your bankai!" 

His cry reverberated across the arena as Yamada levelled his sword. "Inflict, Yabuka!" 

Too late. Byakuya felt rather than saw the massive release of reiatsu. It kicked across the arena, punching a line between Yamada and Renji, and Renji exploded in a halo of blood. The kidō holding him down disintegrated and, silent as death, he dropped. 

Unable to catch him, Byakuya followed him to the ground with his eyes. His hair was flying loose and yet Byakuya could not distinguish between those beloved locks and the myriad open wounds which covered Renji's body. Wounds which each bore the signature shape of Zabimaru's teeth. 

What a cruelly efficient shikkai. To record and store each injury its wielder suffered and then inflict them onto an enemy in a single deadly strike. In battle it would be magnificent. In this arena, Byakuya could hardly fathom it. He hardly wanted to. He had no time for thought or rationale, just the intense pain of loss. 

But Yamada wasn't finished. He staggered towards Renji, dragging his zanpakutō behind him, its tip leaving a shallow furrow in the sand. What now? Was he not content with shredding his opponent?

Byakuya returned his gaze to Renji. To the blood collecting beneath him and the broken lines of his tattoos. It looked terrible, yes, but Renji surely still lived. Unless Yamada meant to end him.

It wasn't illegal to kill during a challenge. Accidents happened, like his own injury earlier which could so easily have proven fatal. But to do so in cold blood when your opponent was already down, was considered dishonourable in the extreme. And yet Byakuya could see no other reason Yamada might have for approaching Renji the way he did. By rights, he should now be turning his attention on Byakuya. As challenger, _his_ was the surrender Yamada needed to win, not Renji's.

Less than an arm's reach from Renji, Yamada stopped and poked warily at him with his zanpakutō. For a moment there was no sign of life, and then without warning, Renji lunged, snatching at the sword, his fingers closing around the blade with a strength of body and will that belied his terrible injuries. Yamada yelped and tried to tug it away. Renji rose with him, hauling himself up with pure brute strength, and Byakuya could not prevent his choke of horror. Renji's face was a ruin, his eyes especially must have caught the full force of the reiatsu. But he hadn't stopped fighting. He might not be able to see but he had Zabimaru in his hand and, as Yamada released his sword and danced back out of reach, he was gathering power. It swirled around him and Byakuya urged him on with everything he had. Bankai would restore him, heal him. Bankai would allow him to cut down this viscous interloper and win.

But Yamada had seen what he was doing. With a screech he shot forwards, lashing out with his foot and catching Renji hard under the chin. Renji's head snapped up and he staggered, Zabimaru dropping from his fingers and he fell, the power of bankai returning to his body unused. And this time Yamada went after him without hesitation, grabbing his blade and stabbing it down with a single jabbing twist. 

_The heart?_ Byakuya thought with the part of his mind that wasn't screaming in denial But he had aimed for belly rather than chest, so it was no killing blow. Then why do it at all? 

As Byakuya watched, Yamada lifted his other hand to his own chest and it began to glow green. The injuries he had sustained during the latter part of the fight, the ones which had come so close to ending him, vanished, and all became clear. He was stealing Renji's reiatsu to fuel his own healing again. And every scrap he stole left Renji with less to ameliorate his own wounds.

"Leave him alone!" Byakuya coughed. His throat tasted of copper. He was probably dying. He wasn't sure that he actually cared.

"I suppose I'll have to dispose of you as well." Yamada, entirely healed now, was stalking towards him across the sand. It briefly occurred to Byakuya to try and move but he knew it would be fruitless. The odd numbness from Kurotsuchi's poison had crept back into his soul. Or maybe that was just despair. 

_Come on, taichō, you can't give up now._ Renji's bold tones rung inside his head as clearly as though his lover were standing beside him. _Least you can do is take the bastard out with ya. Get a bit of payback._

Prove to him that you are worth avenging? Yes, Renji, Byakuya thought, his fading resolve guttering back to life. You are worth it. You will always be worth it. And we will prove it on his body. 

"You know, being a lieutenant, if I kill you, I get the 6th." Yamada's voice was soft and would have been pleasant if not for its oily undertones. "I'm rather looking forward to that. The first non-Kuchiki to command that division since its founding. What a way to go down in history." 

Byakuya was not listening. His mind was turning over strategies, working through tactics. Renji was broken, but he was not dead. Nor would he be if Byakuya could prevent it. The reiatsu for the sōren sōkutsui still lingered beneath his heart, entangled in the stalled incantation. It was impossible to release this way, but if he were struck down, it would explode with the power of a mid-level hadō obliterating anyone within range. By the rules of this engagement, Byakuya was not allowed to lift a hand in his own defence, but there was nothing preventing him from allowing Yamada to kill himself if he were so foolish as to attempt to kill a captain. And if he died, and Byakuya survived, however briefly, then he would have won. Renji would be safe. Yuzu would be safe. 

And if he died? Then at least he would have tried. 

As Yamada levelled his sword, Byakuya could see the green stripe was gone. It would be a single blow that ended him then.

"The head, I think. Like a common criminal. Did you know my father died that way? Your uncle had him put to death after stealing his zanpakutō from him. And now I have my revenge. First your lieutenant, and now you."

Kneeling in the dirt, Byakuya met his eyes, unflinching. "And yet we will still triumph."

The blade lifted. 

Fell.

And struck steel.

For a brief second, when that black-clad form suddenly interposed itself between him and the 4th's lieutenant, Byakuya thought it was Renji, and then he caught a flash of orange.

"Ichigo?!" How, by all that was holy, had he managed to break through the barrier? 

"Yo!" Ichigo grinned over his shoulder at him, glowing as brightly as a summer sun. Unknowing what he had done. What he had cost them. "Sorry it took me a while to get here, but I had to make a big enough hole to climb through and that's one hell of a lot of reishi. Plus it turns out my shunpo's for shit."

"Forfeit!" Yamada crowed in triumph, blood dripping through his fingers from where Ichigo had hit him in the head.

"Yeah, I don't think so!" Ichigo challenged. "I've seen your tricks. You're not gonna find me the easy mark Renji was." He levelled his blade. "So now I'm challenging you, right?"

Wrong. So completely and utterly wrong. Yamada was laughing. Byakuya fumbled for an explanation. How to describe the complex formalities, the unbending law, the millennia of tradition. He said, "The moment you breached the barrier, we lost." 

Sometimes, it appeared, simpler words sufficed. Ichigo froze, his expression comprehending and yet full of denial. 

"But-?" he began. 

Byakuya reached out, forcing leaden limbs into obedience, and captured Ichigo's shihakushō in his fingers. The boy went to jerk away and Byakuya tightened his hold, dragging him down until they were face to face.

"There is no recourse," he said carefully. "This challenge is now forfeit. To pursue it would be criminal and prosecuted as such. But-" Ichigo was shaking his head and Byakuya could see that reason and logic were shutting down in the face of losing his sister. 

He shook Ichigo's arm roughly, making him listen. "But, you may bid yourself. Later. When you are strong enough, as her brother and as head of the Shiba clan, there are ways for you to reclaim her."

"And in the meantime?" Ichigo retorted, eyes still wide and desperate. 

A female voice replied, "In the meantime she will be with those who value her for more than any alliance marriage might bring."

Byakuya looked up into Unohana Yachiru's fathomless blue eyes and nodded in acquiescence. Losing Yuzu to the 4th was not unbearable. At least the girl would be safe. Unohana turned and left, heading straight towards Renji. She may be kenpachi but she was a healer first and last. She would ensure he lived.

"No fucking way!" Ichigo growled. Zangetsu was rising and Byakuya knew the next words from Ichigo's mouth would seal his fate.

In Unohana's place now stood the judge, his face wrinkled like a winter crab apple and just as sour. He would leap on any impropriety Byakuya knew.

"Do not think to challenge her!" Byakuya snapped, sending a lash of reiatsu out at Ichigo along with the words. "She will end you with a single blow. If you doubt my word, ask Zangetsu."

The zanpakutō must have held the same opinion. Ichigo's eyes immediately clouded and Byakuya took the moment to look around. He was reaching his limit but could not yield until he knew they were both safe. 

Renji. He cast his reiatsu out, closing his eyes in relief as he felt the hot ember of Renji's life force. He was still there. Grievously injured and much reduced, but he would survive. 

Others now flooded onto the field; medics from the 6th, from the 4th, guards. Some were coming towards him, but most swarmed Renji's location and, under Unohana's supervision, he was lifted onto a stretcher. No cover was placed over his face, and even knowing he lived, it was a reassuring sight. Byakuya felt as though he could perhaps breathe again.

"Damn it," Ichigo snarled, but this time it was tempered with frustration. Zangetsu had told him the same as Byakuya. "Damn you all to hell!" He was swaying as though torn apart by emotion, and then he yelled again, a screamed sound of pure rage and despair at the sky, his reiatsu unleashing in full force for the first time. 

It roared across the arena, the purest lightning blue, scouring the ground before it. 

Several of the lesser shinigami dropped immediately, overcome by the tsunami. Byakuya, situated as he was in the teeth of it, did his best to resist. But it was not to be. Hampered by the poison, and exhausted by everything that had passed this day, his meagre reserves of reiryoku failed and he began to fade. Byakuya's final thought as he succumbed was how appropriate the symmetry of him being brought low by the power of this angry orange-haired boy. They had indeed come a very long way in such a very short space of time.


	8. Blow the Barricades

He woke to pain. Crawling fire ants across his skin, hot pokers in his belly. Bones ground to powder and replaced with molten metal. And voices. Unfamiliar ones. And strange reiatsu pressing up against him, pushing and prodding at him.

He tried to think back, work out what had happened, but all he remembered was falling. And...

Urahara's simpering glee. Kurotsuchi's painted leer. 

Taichō lying injured on the ground, as Renji walked away from him saying, _He'll have to come through me..._

Then trapped. Held down. Pinned in place with the end coming. Inevitable. Unavoidable. 

"Taichō!" Renji bellowed. His throat spasming with the power of it. He thrashed as his chest began to cramp and then he was coughing, choking up a lung and that hurt like nothing else, and someone was yelling, which might have been him. He tried to open his eyes, see what was what, but he couldn't because some fucker had covered them with wrappings and then he remembered the last thing he'd seen was that smug bastard's face just before he let rip with his sword. And that's when Renji really panicked.

"My eyes! Taichō, my eyes!" They had a hold of him, pushing him back on the bed. Bodies all around, forcing him down, holding him down, he couldn't move. And when leather straps enclosed his wrists, he lost it, lashing out with fists and feet. Snarling and snapping. He must have made contact because he smelt blood and someone was crying.

Strong hands and a familiar reiatsu broke through the terror. As did the voice calling his name, calmly and authoritatively. "Renji. Renji, stop fighting."

He obeyed, he'd always obey that voice, and lay shaking, disoriented, waiting to see what they would do to him. Some part of him pointed out he was being stupid and that Kuchiki-taichō would never let them them put hollow eyes in his head like they had Hisagi, but another part was still the kid running scared in the dark, being hunted by nightmares.

"Taichō," he croaked, "I'm really sorry I let you down." He swallowed, not beyond begging. "But please, don't let them take my eyes."

The grip on one wrist vanished and a cool palm pressed to his cheek. "Never Renji, I promise you. Now sleep, you're still healing."

He nodded, hearing the scratch of bandages against sheets as he moved his head. "You'll be here?" He felt selfish even asking. Taichō was far too busy to worry about him when he'd been dumb enough to get himself hurt, but the idea of being alone and helpless...

"I'll be here, I promise. I have your back, Renji, you can rest."

*

"You're freaking cheating. There is no way that's a legit move!" Ichigo's less than dulcet tones.

"I can assure you dropping a knight to achieve checkmate is a legitimate move, which you would have known if you had read the book I gave you." Byakuya. And, was that a chuckle? Hell might well have frozen over. 

Or maybe that's where he was. The never-ending hell of Byakuya's shogi lessons. Hell, because the fun only started when Byakuya got so mad at him for not concentrating that he'd bakudō him in place and...

A sudden flash of a malicious grin and a sword with a throbbing green stripe filled Renji's mind. 

His eyes flew open and he bolted upright, rocking in place with the speed of it. "Fuck!" he gasped, fingers clutching the bedding. He'd lost to that shithead from the 4th. Instead of going directly for endgame, he'd pranced around like an idiot showing off his skills and then got pinned down and turned into worm food. Shit. 

"Finally, the monster emerges from its scaly pit."

Ichigo again. Renji searched for him in a room full of bright blurs of colour and darkness. He blinked and shook his head. It didn't help. Though he could see enough to recognise the shapes of Byakuya's bedroom. What the hell?

"Kurosaki Ichigo!" 

Byakuya's rebuke apparently fell on deaf ears. "But the old guy said he'd be awake yesterday."

"The doctor informed us that yesterday would be very earliest he might wake."

That sounded like he'd been out for while. Which wasn't a surprise. He felt like someone had staked him out in the street at midday, jumped up and down on him for a bit, and then let a herd of cattle run over him just to finish him off. 

Renji turned towards the voices and saw shapeless blobs advancing on him. Only their familiar reiatsu stopped him from flinching as they drew close. "How long?" he asked.

"You have been asleep for almost a week," Byakuya said, and one of the blobs, the one without the colourful smear at the top, got smaller and the quilt beside him rustled. At a guess, Byakuya had sat on the bed next to him, but since Renji couldn't see him. 

The familiar fear started to rise...

"And before you begin to worry, your eyes are fine. They may need another day or two but the doctor has assured me there is no lasting damage."

Renji huffed with relief and then felt stupid for being so scared. "I wasn't worried."

"Course you weren't." A thumped landing on the other side of him. It was Ichigo. There was orange. And enough of it for him to reach out and grab. 

"Oi! Bastard! Let go!" Ichigo yelled and his hands clamped round Renji's wrist like a kidō.

Renji ignored it and gave his handful a rough shake before releasing him. "Language," he said, "No swearing in front of Byakuya."

Utter silence met his words and when he reviewed what he'd said, Renji's heart sank. Shit, he'd used taichō's name. He hadn't meant to but that's how he'd been thinking of him in his head since he woke up and it just kind of slipped out. 

"Taichō," he began, only for Byakuya to say, "Ichigo?"

"Yeah, I'll... I'll go do that thing," Ichigo stammered and fled. 

Renji would have liked to have gone with him. Once he heard the door close, he said, "Taichō, I'm sorry." He had so much to apologise for that he didn't know where to start. He tried anyway. "I'm sorry I lost, I-"

Fingers pressed against his lips. "Don't. It was terrible enough watching you fall. Hearing you blame yourself would almost be worse, especially as there is enough blame to spare for all three of us." There was a pause and Byakuya's fingers began a familiar meandering journey over his face, stroking over the ink on his forehead and curling down onto his cheeks. Renji turned into it, wondering where his stern cool captain had gone. This man was gentle. 

Byakuya spoke again. "It appears Urahara is not the only dark horse amongst the ranks. The true nature of Yamada's shikkai was also an astonishingly well kept secret. 

"And those I have spoken to counsel that it is likely close to unbeatable in one to one combat, unless one is aiming to kill with a single blow. So yes, you did err, however I also permitted you to fight without using your bankai, so I must also carry some portion of the blame. And Ichigo..." There was a pause and then the sound of a quiet sigh. "Thinking to save my life, Ichigo penetrated the barrier and entered the field."

"We forfeited?" Damn it. Of all the ways to lose. 

"I am afraid so."

"Yuzu?" Renji asked, thinking about the little girl with the bright eyes and bubbly personality.

"Has gone to the 4th, where she is apparently quite content. You were in the hospital there for the first two days and Ichigo was permitted to visit her. She is missing her brother and sister of course, but she is being tutored in healing techniques, a subject she apparently intended to study in the living world, and her high-spirits in the face of their separation have gone a long way to assuage Ichigo's guilt at losing."

Renji read between the lines. "So he's not trying to break down the gates and steal her back."

"Indeed. We have been saved that adventure at least." 

The humour was back. Now Renji was even more confused. "Bya-" he began and managed to catch himself this time, "Sorry, taichō. It just kind of slips out."

"Actually, Renji, I've been doing some thinking while you've been asleep," Byakuya said.

That sounded ominous. Was that why taichō was being so nice? Letting him down gently. Was he too injured to stay a shinigami? Even if his eyes were okay, there might other things...

On the other hand, taichō had sent Ichigo out of the room and that meant it might have something to do with him. 

Renji's gut lurched. He knew exactly what this was. This the moment he got replaced. Ichigo was moving into Byakuya's bed instead of him, and Byakuya wanted to let him know privately. 

The bastard of it was, Renji actually liked the kid. When he wasn't mouthing off being a smart-ass. 

"Renji, are you listening to me?"

Caught day-dreaming, or was it day-nightmaring, Renji started guiltily. "Yeah?"

"Because I just gave you permission to address me by my given name in private and to be honest, I was hoping for a more favourable reaction than a snarl."

He had? 

He had! 

Renji's heart, which had been lower than his boots, soared. "Really?" he grinned, a wide and sloppy one given Byakuya's amused chuckle. 

"Really." Byakuya's tone grew serious. "Though I will tolerate no disrespect in front of the division."

Renji tried to school his features, and failed. "Absolutely not. Best behaviour at all times. Promise," he managed, around a smirk.

"Why am I regretting this already." A faint movement of cloth and colour suggested Byakuya might have been shaking his head.

Renji groped for him, found a hand and tugged. He was rewarded with a small grunt and the press of a body to his chest. "Don't say that, Byakuya," he said, putting as much insinuation into the name as he could. "Ya know, my best behaviour can be really pretty good."

It wasn't easy considering he couldn't see exactly where he was aiming, but he managed to land a kiss pretty close to surprisingly soft lips. Byakuya opened for him and Renji was just about to take full advantage when the door slid back and an embarrassed voice said, "Seriously, you guys. You either need to get a door lock or another bedroom."

Rather than pull away completely, Byakuya just stopped kissing him and leaned their foreheads together. "Or you could simply join us."

Silence came from near the door. Byakuya seemed to be holding his breath waiting for the answer. Renji found he was holding his too. Considering he'd been fearing this two minutes ago, now he wanted nothing more.

Then Ichigo said, "I don't wanna get between you guys. It looks like you've got a good thing." And damn it, no one should sound that lonely.

"Idiot," Renji said, keeping his voice brusque but friendly. "This ain't some pity fuck offer. If Byakuya's inviting you in ta bed then he means it. Don't ya, taichō."

Byakuya sat up and, presumably, glanced towards the door."Indeed, otherwise I wouldn’t have invited you, Ichigo. And Renji, please pick a name and stick to it. If you keep chopping and changing, who knows where we'll end up."

An orange blob came towards the bed and sat down, close but not too close. "It won't matter once he gets promoted. He can call you anything he likes then, can't he, Byakuya." 

The name crept out almost tentatively and even Renji wasn't sure what reaction it'd get. Byakuya seemed like he was in a generous mood, and it'd get real awkward real fast if he was allowed to call Byakuya by his given name and Ichigo wasn’t, but the final call wasn't his.

Byakuya sighed. It was long suffering and resigned. "All right," he said, "I will allow it. But-" he put in over Ichigo's whispered, "Yes!" "I expect the proper terms of respect when we are in company. From both of you."

"Hai, taichō," they chorused and Renji felt the pillows dip as Ichigo flopped back on them. "'Long you remember to call me Shiba-sama then too."

Renji felt Byakuya go still in his arms. That damn kid, he never did know where to draw the line. But when Byakuya replied, it wasn't with the cold reprimand Renji expected. It was a warning, yes, but the warm thread of humour that ran through it was unmistakeable. 

"Make no mistake, Kurosaki Ichigo, you may have the name by right, but that title is one you will have to earn."

*

Renji was whistling as he passed through the gates into the Kuchiki manor. His two weeks sick leave were finally over, which meant not only did he get to go back to work tomorrow, he also got to join in the fun and games at home. A final few steps of shunpo and he was over the lawn and up the steps into the captain's quarters. He tossed Zabimaru into the stand, ignoring the zanpakutō's sleepy grumble, and headed for the bedroom. Tonight was the night. No matter what, he would not be denied!

And then he pulled the door back and saw what was waiting for him. 

He'd only been gone a couple of hours. They couldn't have waited? Course they couldn't. Bastards had been at it all week and Byakuya couldn't resist giving lessons.

He was leaning on a stack of pillows with Ichigo between his legs, his hands caught in the kid's hair guiding him up and down on his dick. It was such a familiar position, such a familiar lesson that Renji's mouth all but watered at the sight. He'd been there himself so many times, starting from those earliest days when he was nothing but a bundle of untrained eagerness, to just last night when Ichigo had given up in frustration and demanded Renji show him how it was done. 

For all his mouthiness, it turned out that Ichigo really sucked at giving blow jobs, something which amused Renji no end. He'd have been happy to let the kid pick it up in his own time; Byakuya, on the other hand, seemed determined to prove that any skill could be improved by a lot of practice and refined technique, and since Renji was one of the test dummies, he wasn't about to start arguing.

They sure made a pretty picture together though. Propped against pillows and mostly nude, Byakuya resembled an illustration out of the really good erotic works he kept on his shelves, an effect only heightened by the drape of the pale blue sleeping kimono around his shoulders and the fall of his hair across his face as he bent to study Ichigo's technique. 

His hands, one holding himself and the other buried deeply in Ichigo's hair, were an education in and of themselves, Renji knew. They could be firm or gentle, controlling or encouraging. In bed or on the training field. In some ways, those hands were more expressive than the man himself. Look now. At the way he held Ichigo's hair. Those long fingers had ultimate control, tightening and loosening, tugging and caressing, guiding Ichigo as he bobbed up and down, his lips tight around Byakuya's girth and deep wet pink from the friction. Ichigo looked blissed out for a change. Normally he was all scrunched up and concentrating, but with Byakuya's fingers carding though his hair, he looked like he might actually be enjoying himself. 

It was impossible to tell if Byakuya was. His face was as calm as always. Unmoved by anything. Though there was a gentleness in his eyes as he looked down at Ichigo which struck deep at Renji's heart. He shouldn't feel jealous, he knew he shouldn't, but seeing them together like that...

Damn it, he was not going to make the same mistake as he had that time over breakfast. He had a standing invite, and he knew it, and a strong desire to fuck. Thanks to the doc, the past week had been nothing more strenuous than sucking and being sucked, and tonight he needed to fuck something. Hard. And looking at that nice ass wriggling on the bed, Renji knew exactly whose name was in the frame.

With no ceremony, he stripped off his clothes and joined them, crawling onto the edge of the bed and reaching for Ichigo's right leg. He grabbed the calf and ran his thumb up it, digging deep into the muscle. Ichigo twitched and frowned, his rhythm faltering, and Byakuya looked up. 

"Are you cleared?" he asked. 

"Mmhm, doc says I'm fine," Renji answered, bending down to place a firm bite at the top of Ichigo's thigh. 

Ichigo choked and then snarled hoarsely, "Fucker, geroff."

"Ichigo, concentrate, your focus is appalling."

Renji sniggered unsympathetically at the kid's muffled protest and set to work distracting him some more. Biting kisses up well-muscled buttocks set Ichigo squirming. The same placed up his back and across his shoulders made him arch, and when Renji ran his tongue back down his spine to the top of his ass, the sound Ichigo made dragged a surprised groan from Byakuya. That was interesting.

A tug or two and Renji managed to encourage Ichigo up onto his knees and Byakuya, cottoning on to Renji's plan, helped by easing the kid's legs apart with his own. The appreciative look he shot Renji was telling. Renji grinned back and pointed to the oil beside the bed, which Byakuya picked up and tossed over to him. Renji caught it and tucked it safe within arm's reach. Then he slipped a hand between Ichigo's legs and palmed his dick. Ichigo twitched, thrust into Renji's grip and slammed a hand down on the bed beside Byakuya. 

"Yer right," Renji said, "His focus does suck." 

"As does he, and somewhat better when you're touching him. In this you are a good influence, Renji." 

That was a nice compliment. But there's no way Byakuya should be able to form sentences that complex when someone was going down on him, so Ichigo couldn't be doing that good a job. Renji gave the kid a couple of long strokes, cupped his balls then ran a finger back along his taint to tap against his hole. Ichigo shuddered, goose bumps breaking out up his legs and his fingers curled into the quilt. And when Renji grabbed his hips firmly, and replaced finger with tongue, he lurched in his grip and squeaked, "What the fuck?!"

"You complaining?" Renji asked, speaking the words against his skin and smirking at the shiver they got. Ichigo was incredibly responsive, they'd learned, and was inexperienced enough to show it, which made bedding him great game.

When Ichigo began to answer, Byakuya tightened his fingers in his hair and said, "I do not recall giving you permission to stop." It sounded cold, but Renji could see the amused look in his eye. 

"He always this demanding?" Ichigo asked long-sufferingly.

"You know nothing," Renji said. "Wait till he pulls out the big guns, like holding a naked zanpakutō by the blade while you come, now that's fucking demanding."

"That's fucking impossible!"

"It really isn't, as I have proved many times, now if the pair of you don't mind, I believe we were actually starting to make progress." 

Renji smirked at Byakuya affronted tone, dipped his head and rubbed the flat of his tongue firmly against Ichigo's hole, while tugging on his balls gently. The shocked, "Teeth!" from Byakuya simply made him smirk all the wider.

Given Ichigo's already pretty aroused state, it wasn't difficult to get him loosened up. Some judicious use of tongue, some oil and fingers and Ichigo was wriggling back against him like a puppy making happy noises. Renji, deciding he was good to go, gave his ass a firm pat, knelt up to slick himself, and then lined up. He was so focussed on finally getting where he wanted to be, that he hadn't thought to check out the other end in a while. 

"Renji?" Byakuya's voice penetrated the, 'fuck, need to fuck now,' haze, but only just. 

Renji stared at him, fishing for a response that didn't consist of a pathetic whine of denial, and managed, "What?"

"This isn't going to work. Look." Renji looked. Ichigo had his face tucked into Byakuya's hip, his hands fisted in his kimono. His eyes were screwed shut and his mouth was open, his breath coming in short sharp pants. He looked halfway to heaven and hanging on only by a thread. "He cannot do both at once," Byakuya added. "It's asking too much at this stage."

It was. Which sucked, because Renji really really wanted to fuck something. Even more now than when he'd walked into the room. He supposed he could go ahead anyway, and then finish Byakuya off afterwards but that obviously wasn't what Byakuya wanted. 

Renji huffed and settled back on his haunches. When Ichigo shifted restlessly, Renji slipped a thumb into him, and fucked him gently. It made him whine, a high pitched desperate kind of a sound and he tugged against the hold Byakuya had on his wrists, his cheek rubbing against Byakuya's erection. 

Byakuya's eyelids fluttered slightly but that was the absolute extent of his reaction, despite the deep red colour of his dick and the fact that Ichigo had to have been doing him for going on an hour. It was so damned unfair, Renji thought, just how much control the guy had. What he wouldn't give to see that cool ruffled.

The idea percolated into his brain, which, when confronted by the images, sent instructions directly to his dick making it leap and leak copiously. Renji grinned, brought a hand down on Ichigo's ass in a hard slap that made the kid yelp and actually move, and then Renji was crawling up the bed towards an astonished looking Byakuya. "So, I reckon," he said as he went, "that there's only one control freak around here, so if anyone's gonna be in the middle, it should be him, and since I am going to fuck something tonight, or die trying, I'm thinking it's gonna be you, Byakuya." He growled the name out as obscenely as he could as he reached the object of his intentions and crouched over him like a tiger over its prey. 

Byakuya shuddered, his eyes falling closed and colour darkening his cheeks. It was fucking beautiful. Renji felt his pulse quicken and he swept down to capture his captain's lips in a bruisingly deep kiss. Byakuya opened for him, welcoming him in, his hands coming up to tangle in Renji's hair. The feel of him, taste of him, was intoxicating. Renji couldn't get enough. 

Slipping an arm around Byakuya's back he pulled them closer together, tugging away some of the pillows and pressing him back into the remaining pile, feeling his body give and mould in all the right ways. When he ground down, their dicks slid against each other, slippery from oil and spit and precum, and Byakuya gasped into his mouth. 

A knee nudged between Renji's and Renji opened automatically, more concerned with the sensation of having Byakuya trapped beneath him than anything else. He hardly even registered the heat at his back or the stroke of a hand up his side, so when a finger breached him, he tore his mouth away from Byakuya's with a choked off yell. Ichigo. The kid was going to try and fuck him. Renji assembled about two brain cells, decided he didn't give a damn what Ichigo did, so long as he got to fuck Byakuya as well and said, "Gimme the damned oil!"

It was slapped into his outstretched hand and he gave it to Byakuya, who twisted off the lid and poured a decent coating over Renji's fingers. Then, in a display of flexibility that Renji never wanted to forget, Byakuya grasped his own thighs and rolled himself upwards until his knees were balanced over Renji's shoulders and he was open and spread beneath Renji's heated gaze. 

Renji stared down at him, so pale and perfect, and gulped. 

He had fucked Byakuya before, but that had been more along the lines of taichō having an itch he needed scratching and Renji being a useful post. Lay back and think of Seireitei and try not to come till you have permission. This was as different from that as night was from day. Almost tentatively, he reached forwards with dripping fingers, only to have his wrist caught in a strong grip. He started guiltily and glanced up into heated grey eyes. "I will not break, Renji," Byakuya said, and his mouth quirked a little. "I would feel all of your power."

"Oh fuck," Renji groaned and threw himself forwards to kiss him again. He fumbled between them, finding his target and slipping his fingers in. Byakuya relaxed around him with virtually no resistance, shoving back onto Renji's fingers, and dug his nails into Renji's biceps as though urging him on. Renji needed no more encouragement. Ripping their mouths apart, he glanced down, worked his fingers in and out a few more times just to be sure, then held Byakuya open as he curled his hips to line himself up. He slid home with a single thrust, the sheer pleasure of it tearing an agonized moan from his chest. His eyes were closed, his head drooping between shoulders that shook with the strain of holding himself and Byakuya up. He could feel the sweat running down his spine and his thighs felt like granite with the strain of holding back. 

A choked voice beside him said, "If you guys are ever short a few hundred thousand yen, you could make a freaking fortune in porno."

It took Renji a second to register the words, then he shook his head to clear it, glared at Ichigo, who was looking a bit gob-smacked, and said, "Weren't you gonna do something?" 

"You still want-" Ichigo began, pointing in a generally ass-ward direction, though apparently the expression on Renji's face was enough to clue him in. "Right," he said, "I'm there." He vanished and a moment later, Renji felt him snug up against his back. 

A tightening grip on his arms reminded Renji what else he was supposed to be doing. He looked down into heavy-lidded eyes almost black with lust, temples beaded with sweat, and normally paper-pale skin flushed rosy pink. Byakuya's lips were parted and his tongue was stroking back and forth across his lower lip in a way that made Renji want to swoop down and steal it for his own. He did so, bending Byakuya almost double as he dove in for the kiss and, as their lips met, the blunt head of Ichigo's dick pushed into him.

Renji keened through his nose as Ichigo pressed deep, opening him properly after only cursory preparation. The burn of it, contrasting so sweetly with the mind-blowing pleasure of Byakuya's tight ass and willing wet mouth, was almost enough to set him off, and he had to grab on with everything he was not to embarrass himself and disappoint everyone else into the bargain. Ichigo's arm slipped round his waist and he seemed to fit himself to Renji, his hot skin pressing and sliding against Renji's back. Kisses and the soft touch of hair brushed across the backs of his shoulders and Renji could feel the tremble in Ichigo's muscles. He was still new to this, Renji reminded himself, he was working up one hell of a learning curve. Acrobatic threesomes probably weren't taught in most high schools.

That realisation, along with a sudden jerk from Byakuya, brought Renji back to himself. 

He was the literal man in the middle here and had to keep a handle on the situation. Reluctantly he broke off the kiss with Byakuya, and was on the verge of checking that everyone was okay, when Ichigo thrust forwards, pushing him deeper into Byakuya. All Renji could do was cuss loud and long, riding the pleasure and trying to find the edges of it so he could think through it. He was almost there when Byakuya rubbed a thumb over his nipple and then tweaked it, nearly setting off another cascade reaction, and Renji finally croaked in sheer desperation, "Oh fucking hell, I can't do this."

"You can, if you try" Byakuya assured him, voice a husky echo of it usual strong rumble, which helped not at all. His fingers crept up Renji's neck and dipped into his mouth. 

Renji sucked at the tips, working his tongue over them in an attempt to distract himself. As a strategy, it failed. "I can't," he panted, turning his head away. His arms were shaking now, the urge to fuck starting to overwhelm everything else. His hips twitched, Byakuya gasped and behind him Ichigo gave a deep heartfelt groan and clutched tighter at his waist.

"Just move," Byakuya ordered.

Renji obeyed. He always obeyed that voice. He pulled back slightly, feeling Ichigo slide more deeply into him and then thrust forwards. It should have been impossible, yet somehow it worked. One of Ichigo's hands crept round onto Byakuya's thigh, and Byakuya grabbed it, linking their fingers and bringing the three of them together and, between them they set up a kind of ragged rhythm, Renji flexing more than thrusting, worried that a more definite movement would throw them off. It was close and hot and should have been terrible and yet 'should' apparently had no place in their bed that night because it was also close in a way that made Renji feel held and cherished on all sides. And the passion that built between them contained the heat of banked fires, their temperature climbing in a slow steady burn. 

Ichigo's teeth at his neck made Renji turn his head, begging for more. As he did, his lips found Byakuya's ankle and he alternated sucking kisses onto it and rubbing his face against the smooth skin. The contrast between that and Ichigo's increasingly desperate touches was riveting. Renji felt strung between them, caught on a wire that stretched and stretched and could never break. It was wonderful and maddening and he was going to go insane if he couldn't just fuck!

"Stop." The groaned plea escaped before he could prevent it. He felt Byakuya's fingers in his hair tugging his face round and he opened his eyes to see concerned grey ones staring up at him. "I can't," he said brokenly. "I just... I can't. I need..."

For all Renji's lack of words, Byakuya seemed to understand. Renji wasn't sure how he managed it, but before he could begin protesting, Byakuya had rearranged them so that he was in the middle. With all of them on their sides, Byakuya with his back to Renji and Ichigo in front facing them, there were fewer distractions. And although he missed the solid heat of Ichigo inside him, Renji found that sliding back deep into Byakuya was sensation enough. He nuzzled into Byakuya's neck, nosing aside his hair and then up until he found an earlobe which he suckled delicately, breathing through his nose. Byakuya shivered and rolled back against him. 

Ichigo was still looking a bit shell-shocked. It was that inexperience thing again, Renji thought as he began to move in short sharp thrusts. It played havoc with a body's abilities to regroup at short notice. He'd get used to it. A few rounds with Byakuya and he'd be as good as Renji. 

Which reminded him. "Hey," he said, digging his fingers into Byakuya's hip to stop him moving for a moment. "Ichigo. Oi, Ichigo!" He clicked his fingers in front of the kid's face.

Pleasure-stunned honey coloured eyes lifted from where they'd been watching Byakuya working his cock. Renji reached down and stilled Byakuya's hand, untangling his fingers. It wasn't fair to expect sense out of the kid when that was happening. Ichigo's mouth opened and he whimpered a little, but once the touch was gone, his eyes began to clear. "Wha'?" he mumbled a moment later. "You made him stop. Mean."

"Yeah, I'm real nasty. But remember how you were saying earlier that taichō was too demanding."

"Renji," Byakuya muttered warningly. 

Renji ducked his head. "Sorry." He said it again, this time with the correct form of address. "That _Byakuya_ was too demanding."

"Ah," Ichigo agreed. He looked almost perky. The brain cells had to be firing again. Also his eyes were narrowing. There was hope for the kid yet.

"What d'ya say we show him just how distracting it is when there's two of us?"

"Renji!" This time his name was said in a slightly aghast tone that contained a hint of concern. 

Renji grinned and tightened his arms around his lover. "Not this time, Byakuya. I've finally got you right where I want you and you aren't getting away with it."

"Is this a challenge?" 

Challenging a Kuchiki in any domain was dangerous, and the bedroom was no exception. Renji thought about it for all of oh, a second, and then nodded firmly. "Yeah, I kind of think it is."

Byakuya's swallow seemed nervous, something Renji would never have suspected if he hadn't been so close to him. He certainly never could have guessed from Byakuya's tone when he answered imperiously, "Accepted. Should you fail to distract me, the pair of you will put on a show for me tomorrow."

Renji rolled his eyes. There were times when Byakuya was too predictable. "Anyone'd think you liked to watch," he muttered into a noble ear, before licking it playfully. Byakuya squirmed and Renji took the opportunity to capture both Byakuya's hands in his. "And if we win?"

"You will not."

A huff of a laugh escaped before Renji could stop it. Never let it be said that Byakuya was not confident. "Even so, if we win...?"

"Then I..." The words dragged to a stop. A moment or two of silence passed before Byakuya harrumphed and finished grudgingly, "Then I shall put on a show for you."

Now that would be something worth striving for. "Anything we want?" Renji enquired, meeting Ichigo's gaze. The kid was wide-eyed now and Renji could almost see the cogs whirring.

"Anything," Byakuya acquiesced with a nod, "Though I reserve the right to refuse to perform in public. My reputation has suffered enough in the past few weeks."

"I wouldn't do that to you," Renji reassured him. This wasn't about punishment, it was about fun. "Also," he said, gripping Byakuya's hands more tightly. "You're not allowed to fight." Which should be stating the obvious, but sometimes the obvious needed stating. "This is about focus, not force."

"Yes, Renji," came the long suffering reply. "I am aware of the rules since I set them to begin with."

"Family line?"

Byakuya nodded. "Yes, family line, and I am allowed two repetitions and a generational leap."

"Okay, now you've lost me," Ichigo said, looking between them. "I was right with you up till the last bit."

Renji explained. "It's proof of focus. Taichō – eh, Byakuya has to recite his family lineage while we..." Renji paused, thought about the wording, and went with it, "While we make love to him. If he repeats more than two, or jumps a generation more than once, he loses."

A quiet snort from Byakuya showed what he thought of that possibility. Ichigo was still looking perplexed. "But how'll we know? It's his family."

"Believe me, I'll know," Renji replied, with all the authority of someone who'd played, and lost, this game more times than he could remember.

"You always forget my great great aunt Fumiko," Byakuya said, twisting a little in Renji's arms and staring at him. "I have often wondered why."

Renji, finding he couldn't meet Byakuya's eyes, looked away. "I used to know someone called that," and please could they get off this subject. He could feel himself softening inside Byakuya and it made him feel kind of pathetic considering how horny he'd been just a few moments ago.

"Renji?" He glanced up into a gaze full of compassion. "From now on, we shall miss that line entirely from the recitation. They are but fourth generation agnatic descent. They are not important."

Sometimes the things Byakuya did were so sweet and yet so convoluted. Renji thanked him with a kiss, touched by the sentiment if baffled by the perspective. "So, we ready?" he asked.

Ichigo shrugged at him. "Dunno. I've pretty much lost the mood, all that talking about descents and recitations." 

"At your age you're always in the mood," Renji replied, just as Byakuya reached out, snagged Ichigo round the neck and dragged him in for a kiss. They'd done a bit of this over the past few days while Renji had been mostly relegated to the sidelines, but watching it was never going to get old. 

Renji knew that when Byakuya kissed him, he gave it up to him. He knew it because he felt it, like a part of him opened up. He'd always done it. What had happened earlier with Byakuya opening to him was new and very different. 

When Byakuya kissed Ichigo, Ichigo initially did the same thing. For a moment, he went limp and gave it up, and then he started kissing back and suddenly what had been pretty sexy got unbelievably hot. They pushed against each other with mouths and lips, their heads turning as they battled. Tongues drove and delved, teeth nipped, hands grasped and tugged and gripped. Byakuya kissed like he fought and like he fucked, either with control or fighting for it. If Ichigo fought the same way as he kissed, then they had an unstoppable spitfire on their hands. He was relentless. But not severe; he teased and challenged and smiled into the kisses, and watching them go at it was making Renji ache in all the right places.

He flexed his hips slightly, pulling Byakuya into a better position and then began fucking him slowly, changing the angles until he hit it right. He knew when he did because Byakuya tore his mouth from Ichigo's and said, "Kuchiki Yoshito, first of the Kuchiki line, champion of nine regions by force alone, married Eri, daughter of the Soul King, and they begat one son, Kuchiki Yuji..."

And so it began. Renji kept half an ear on the recitation as he bent his attentions to Byakuya's neck. Ichigo, being the bright boy he was, shimmied down the bed and started doing what he'd been doing when Renji first arrived, and this time Renji had a bird's eye view. It was informative. 

On the outside, Byakuya was the epitome of calm as Ichigo took him in hand and started dotting kisses and kitten licks up and down his erection. On the inside, he trembled. Renji smirked into Byakuya's neck, waited for Ichigo to take him into his mouth properly, and then thrust deep, holding there and rocking back and forth over that spot. The recitation stumbled slightly before picking up again. Renji and Ichigo exchanged glances down the length of Byakuya's body, shared matching grins, and then really set to. In a co-ordinated plan of attack they used every trick they could think of, and Renji considered himself pretty tricksy. 

He tugged Byakuya's top leg up and back over his own, rolling them a little. It restricted his movements some but it opened Byakuya up beautifully. Mouth still moving steadily from shoulder to neck to ear and back again, Renji let his hands wander over Byakuya's chest and belly, dragging his nails across his pectorals and rubbing a fingertip around pale pink nipples. They peaked a little under his touch so he reached down to Ichigo to get his fingers dampened before trying again. The moment his fingers slipped into Ichigo's mouth alongside Byakuya's erection, the recitation stumbled once more. Curious, Renji rubbed them firmly along the underside of Byakuya's cock and felt him flex and thrust. 

"Ichigo," he said, "You are using your tongue, yeah?"

The kid pulled off and nodded, flexing his jaw and swiping at his wet chin. "Yeah," he said. "Soft, like he told me. Why?"

"Focus here," Renji said, running his fingers hard along the big vein. "And use more pressure." Byakuya turned his head towards the pillow, still speaking smoothly, regularly, though his nipples were now standing to attention like little soldiers. 

Ichigo's expression turned determined. "Right," he said, and pounced. 

Byakuya immediately gasped and arched back against Renji, though he kept speaking and the names were bang on the nose. It was the clench on the inside that tipped Renji off. "You sneaky bastard," Renji murmured breathlessly in his ear, holding him close. 

All those years and Renji had thought it was iron control. It wasn't. He just didn't let himself get over stimulated. Renji had never known that Byakuya liked that done firmly. In fact every time he'd tried it, knowing it was something he liked himself, Byakuya had corrected him, telling him to be gentle. "I don't know if my respect for you just shot up or if I think you're even more nuts than I suspected," he said. "Do you ever really let go?"

For a second there was nothing but the recitation and then, still speaking, Byakuya shook his head. It was as Renji had thought. "Right," he said. "Damn the challenge, tonight you let go. We've got you. Forget everything else and just feel."

Byakuya shook his head again.

Renji clenched his jaw in annoyance. That damned Kuchiki pride. "Please," he tried again. "For me. I want to see you fly. I promise, I'll be there to catch you." 

" _We'll_ be there," Ichigo's voice cut in, and that made Byakuya stammer to a halt. He looked at Ichigo, who was on his knees, eyes blazing, then his gaze turned on Renji, a little hazy and little panicked. "I don't know if I can," he said. "Really, Renji, I'm not being obtuse, I don't know if I have it in me."

That made a sick sort of sense. If you've been holding back for so many years, you couldn't just flip a switch and turn it around. And being Byakuya, he wouldn't promise something he couldn't put his all into.

"Try," Renji said. "If it doesn't work, we can do it again some other time. There's no right or wrong here, just three people who care about each other having a good time together."

Byakuya seemed to search his face, his eyes dark and vulnerable even hidden beneath half-closed lids. He nodded a moment later, his hair tickling Renji's neck as he moved. "I shall try," he said. 

"Excellent," Renji agreed, then caught his chin and tugged him round for a kiss. Given the way Byakuya suddenly bucked up against him, Ichigo had gone back to what he was doing too.

The difference was amazing. Under Byakuya's self-knowing direction, Renji discovered that he'd been systematically led astray for years. 

Some things he should have guessed about. For example, when Byakuya fucked him, and not as part of some stupid game of focus and power, he'd never once complained about Renji being rough. That only happened when he was giving instruction, or apparently when he was playing stupid freaking games. Renji almost hated him for it. And yet seeing him bloom, here tonight, under their unmerciful hands, he couldn't. 

Others remained the same; the scars were strictly off limits. Renji tried once, running a thumb curiously along the edge of one, only to be rebuffed with a harsh grip on his wrist and a growled, "Don't." Whether it was because they were too sensitive or painful Renji didn't know, but he wasn't stupid. He wasn't going to ruin what was turning into a marathon session of sensuality and exploration by not taking direction. 

But some things he never would have guessed in a thousand years. And those were the ones really worth discovering.

Renji bent to lick a line up Byakuya's neck, tasting sweat salt and heat. Byakuya gave a quiet half whimper and strained against the hold Renji had on his wrists. "You look so beautiful," Renji whispered, amending it to, "Sexy, I mean sexy," when he saw the sudden sharpening of lust glazed eyes, "but damn it, Byakuya, you are beautiful when you just let go."

An irritated huff escaped that aristocratic nose. Only Byakuya could get huffy at being complimented. Renji smiled and nipped the bit the skin he'd been suckling. There'd be a bruise there, one of several he and Ichigo had made between them. The scarf was definitely going to be needed tomorrow. 

Ichigo surfaced for another breather, working his jaw and rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth. He propped himself up on one elbow and glared at Renji. "How come you get the easy bit?" he asked before blowing a stream of air over Byakuya's erection. It twitched. So did Byakuya. 

Renji grit his teeth as his dick was stroked from base to tip in a velvet grip. The urge to fuck almost took him and he grunted, clutching an arm around Byakuya's waist to hold him still, and snarled, "Ya think this is easy?"

"Okay, maybe not." The look Ichigo shot him was sympathetic and probably a bit jealous. 

"I believe you were busy, Ichigo?" 

Their efforts hadn't been in vain, Renji thought. Despite the fact that Byakuya could still form full sentences, his voice did sound strained, maybe even a bit desperate. Ichigo all but rolled his eyes as he went to return to his task. 

In a moment of inspiration, Renji stopped him. "Lemme try this," he said, thinking back to how Byakuya had rolled himself under Renji earlier. 

He reached out and grabbed some of the discarded pillows, stuffed some behind himself and brought Byakuya up almost on his lap. It restricted Renji's movement, but that didn't actually bother him. It may even make things easier. Then before Ichigo could start blowing Byakuya again, Renji raised his own legs and spread them, forcing Byakuya's wider until he was completely exposed. He ran his hands up the soft skin of Byakuya's inner thighs and pushed his dick down a little, so Ichigo would be able to reach it better.

"Fuck," Ichigo murmured when he was done, his eyes drooping to half-mast and his hand tugging on his own cock. Renji guessed they must be worth looking at to elicit a response like that. "Seriously, that's just... Hang on."

He vanished, ducking down and a second later Byakuya virtually seized in Renji's arms, curling forwards with a pained gasp and tightening up like a strung bow. Renji groaned and went with him, all but losing control as he felt the heat of Ichigo's face against him as well. "What the hell?" he managed, peering over Byakuya's shoulder trying to see what Ichigo was doing and getting a great view of Ichigo's ass flexing as he rutted against the bed. 

Since Byakuya's erection was standing proud and untouched by any but Renji's hand, Renji delved further and found Ichigo's lips stretched around Byakuya's balls. Okay, that explained a lot, he thought, just as Ichigo released his mouthful with an unrestrained slurp. 

The next thing Renji knew, it was him getting the same treatment. "Oh, fuck," he cursed, head slamming back into the pillows. "Oh fucking fuck. Ichigo..." He felt Byakuya's rumble of laughter all the way to his toes. "Not me, him!" he managed in a half-assed strangled kind of a way.

Sweet relief followed when Ichigo released him to rasp, "I'm past caring. Maybe if one of you comes, then I can. And right now that's all I freaking care about. In fact, you know something..." A rustle of bedding followed and Ichigo reappeared, his face flushed and lips swollen. "I'm just gonna jerk off. It's not like I can't get it back up again."

Kid had a point. It seemed a pity to let him go it alone though. Renji grabbed at him, yanking him close and pressing their mouths together. How he still managed to taste sweet after what he'd been doing escaped Renji, who decided to just go with it since kissing Ichigo was always good; punchy and demanding like they were when they talked and fought together. Ichigo's fingers dug into Renji's shoulders, and Byakuya's breathing grew loud and irregular as they sandwiched him between them. 

Then Byakuya moved and Ichigo's breath hitched as he tore his mouth from Renji's, panting, "Oh hells, no." Renji stared into desperate lust-glazed eyes and then down, to see Byakuya's grip around both himself and Ichigo, his languid pace the absolute opposite of what Ichigo wanted for himself, Renji was sure.

Renji sniggered at Byakuya's smug smirk and the expression of utter desperation on Ichigo's face at the measured touch. "Maybe if you help him out, you can get him to speed up a bit," Renji suggested. The kid obviously wasn't thinking straight, and with his dick being stroked like that, Renji didn't blame him.

"Ah, fuck yeah, good idea," Ichigo replied, either not hearing or ignoring Byakuya's sceptical sniff. His fingers covered Byakuya's and Renji felt a shudder run through Byakuya at the contact. Being at the bottom of the pile meant he couldn't do much more than shiver in sympathy. But it was a good shiver, full of anticipation.

Watching them distract each other with a kiss, Renji worked his hands down between them until he had his thumbs against the underside of Byakuya's balls and was rubbing around the base of his own cock, pressing at the muscle stretched around it. 

"Renji," Byakuya murmured, breath hitching. He arched, shoving at Renji's hand with his free one, a definite case of encouragement if Renji had even seen one.

"You sure?" he asked.

"You won't hurt me," came the answer. "Please, more."

It didn't take much effort to ease a finger or two in alongside his dick. The angle was difficult, and he couldn't go far, but Byakuya seemed to appreciate it, making small noises and riding him with sharp upward thrusts of his hips, his cock leaking from the tip. Ichigo caught hold of his hair and slammed his mouth down for another kiss, shoving up close and hard. Whatever he was doing seemed to work. Byakuya keened loudly into the kiss, abandoning his attempts at getting Ichigo off in favour of grabbing desperately onto shoulders and necks and damn near writhing between them. The heat and the closeness and the smell of them together was doing Renji's head in and when Ichigo tore his mouth away and Byakuya kept making those same desperate sounds, Renji slapped a hand in place to silence him in pure self protection.

He didn't expect Byakuya to suck his fingers in like candy, eagerly whining through his nose, and Renji nearly came from the sight. He knew Byakuya liked sucking cock, because he did it to him often enough, even if it was under the guise of games. But, Renji wondered in a head-whirling blur, would he suck the kid?

"You're enjoying that, aren't you, Byakuya. Having both ends filled." Eyes rolled under blue veined lids. Renji continued, hot and dirty into Byakuya's ear, "You want it properly? You want to suck Ichigo while I fuck your ass?" They were dirty words, words that would send Kuchiki-taichō into a killing rage. They made Byakuya shudder from head to toe and Ichigo choke out a surprised, "Oh yeah!" 

"Ichigo, move," Renji said, and when the kid scrambled, Renji rolled them so Byakuya was on his hands and knees. And then... sweet heaven, he could finally move. He almost missed Ichigo shuffling rapidly into position, his dick held out in front of him, but not the way Byakuya grabbed for him, tugging him forwards and swallowing him down. 

Renji got a glimpse of wide, honey coloured eyes before Ichigo curled over Byakuya, fucking his mouth in a way that had to be uncomfortable. Renji retained enough presence of mind to smack at his shoulder and Ichigo backed off a little, allowing Byakuya room to cough and breath before taking him in almost as deep again.

"Not me, swear it," Ichigo gasped, almost crossed-eyed with effort. With a desperate groan, he slumped to one-side, landing propped on one arm. Byakuya followed him down, in the process lifting his ass to the perfect angle for Renji to fuck. _Finally_ , Renji's hind-brain rejoiced, _this was what I've been waiting for all damned night._

He moved from pure instinct, gripping Byakuya by the hips to hold him still, and thrusting in deep and hard. It was bliss, absolute fucking bliss. Tight and hot and deep and each movement was met and matched, their bodies slamming together, and there was nothing stopping him this time. He was a man with a mission and that mission was to fuck until he came.

He vaguely registered a strangled cry and then Byakuya was writhing under him, hands coming back to scratch and tug at him. Renji pulled out just long enough to flip Byakuya over and then crashed back down on top of him, sliding back inside and hunting down Byakuya's mouth with his own. The kiss was perfect, as were the nails in his back, the fingers yanking at his hair and the sharp broken sounds Byakuya was making with each thrust of Renji's hips.

Breathing became essential. He tore his mouth away from the kiss, panting loudly, eyes unseeing and aware of little except the drive to just fuck into the hot hard hold of Byakuya's body. But somehow it still wasn't enough. It took Byakuya's voice, words strangled with passion, to make him realise what he was missing.

"Renji, please. Together."

And yes, that was it. Blindly he sought out Byakuya's erection, their fingers interlocking as they chased pleasure together, and despite being so long in building, when it swept down, it still managed to take Renji by surprise. He groaned out a warning, his rhythm starting to falter, and then, finally, just as Renji thought he might go off too soon, Byakuya cried out, his whole body clenching down around Renji as hot fluid splashed over their joined fingers. Renji froze, hearing his own voice calling out Byakuya's name, and then he was coming too, his hips snapping as he held Byakuya and spilled deep and hard and oh so damned good. 

Afterwards he collapsed with all the dignity of a felled tree. Breath heaving and sweat gluing them together, he was vaguely aware of Byakuya's trembling fingers on his face and in his hair. It was nasty and wonderful and too hot and horribly sticky and just how sex ought to be. Renji buried his face in Byakuya's neck and laughed in pure joy. "Damn, I feel like I just ran a fucking marathon."

Far too soon Byakuya pushed at him, grimacing as Renji eased back and pulled out. "In my experience marathon's are considerably easier," he said and though his words were cool, his voice was all relaxed, sated rumble. Just the sound of it made Renji burn with pride. He might not have made Byakuya fly, but there'd definitely been some loss of control.

Renji flopped onto his back with a happy groan as Byakuya reached out, grabbed his sleeping kimono and made a desultory attempt to clean himself off with shaking hands. After a second, much to Renji's amusement, he gave up, tossing the scrunched up garment away in disgust. "The quilts are going to be ruined," he said.

"Hey, Ichigo-" Renji began, levering himself up. The kid was conked out on the edge of the bed, sprawled in an ungainly heap, mouth wide open. He looked like he gone out like a light the second he'd come. "I think we broke him."

A hand pressed between Renji's shoulder blades and Byakuya peered over him. He took one look and tutted, "His stamina is as appalling as his focus."

"Killjoy," Renji said, flipping over so he was facing Byakuya. He reached out and caught a lock of his hair. It was mussed all to hell and suited him that way. He was pink and bruised and sweaty and Renji adored him. "I love you," he said, because it felt like there was nothing else to say.

Byakuya pinked up a little more, and his eyelids dropped as he looked down. "And I you," he said, "Though I would remind you that-" He stopped short when Renji pressed fingers to his lips.

"No captains, not tonight," Renji said. "Out there, tomorrow, and every day after that, no matter what, you'll always be my captain, but in here, with just us, from now on there's just Ichigo and Renji and Byakuya."

For a moment, Byakuya didn't move or speak, then he nodded and said, "Yes, that does sound like the best way to keep moving forwards."


	9. Epilogue: Truth Don't Fade

The rain had stopped. Finally. And after about three days of overcast misery, the clouds had grudgingly cleared to let the moon heave into view. Ichigo, leaping from halfway up the tall pine to the roof of the captain's quarters caught a glimpse of it from the corner of his eye, did a double take, and had to grab onto the ridge tiles to avoid falling. 

The damn thing kept doing that to him. It looked so different and every time it was a wake up call. Hey, shithead, you're not in Karakura any more. Or Japan. Or for that matter, idiot, earth. 

He sighed, stepped sideways down the roof till he reached his usual spot and plopped down, dangling his feet over the edge and gazing out over Seireitei. From this distance it looked pretty, with its white plaster walls and green gardens and old-fashioned paving. Peaceful. The kind of place you wouldn't mind living. Closer to? Yeah, not so much.

But he wasn't here to sightsee. "Hi, mom," he began, buying time to organise his thoughts into some form of coherence. "Renji says this is dumb and that you can't hear me so what's the point but hey, I never let that stop me before."

"Yuzu's... " Ichigo's words stalled out at his sister's name and he had to swallow down a sudden visceral memory of Yuzu trapped in some kind of never-ending mirror, screaming for Ichigo to come find her. But mom didn't need to know about his bad dreams, so Ichigo forced a smile and said, "Yuzu's fine. I saw her today."

"Her classes are going great and she's really enjoying them. They've made her a novice which, I guess you don't know, but means she's got the law on her side if anyone tries anything." He'd checked that with Byakuya, who'd confirmed it was true.

Mind you, straight afterwards Renji'd said, 'Not that that'd mean anything if they really wanted her. It's more Unohana-taichō's glare keeping 'em in line than any law, I reckon.' And Ichigo was more inclined to believe Renji's version. 

Renji's versions nearly always made more sense. Byakuya tended to say how things were supposed to be; Renji told how things were. Between them Ichigo got a good sense of how fucked up Soul Society was and gained a few clues about how to survive it.

"Karin's good too. No real change there." Still signed up with the 6th and still not speaking to him. 

He sighed, leaning back on his hands and lifting his face to enjoy the slight breeze, refreshing after the sultry humidity of the rain. He'd probably missed something vital. She'd probably tell him what is was. Eventually. When she decided he'd suffered enough. 

In the meantime, he'd keep an eye on her. Watch her train and make sure no one was picking on her, just like he would have done at home. So far she seemed to be doing okay. She had skills and was gaining more all the time. Oh, that was a thing...

"Byakuya says she'll probably get a seat next time there's one available." Ichigo thought it was his way of shuffling her into a safer position. There were paperwork jobs that only seated officers could do and Ichigo knew Byakuya wanted her out of the field. 

Actually he'd been kind of surprised that the captain had signed her up at all, but when he'd asked, Byakuya just got this look on his face and said that Karin knew her own mind, whatever the hell that meant. 

Ichigo was torn. He wanted his sister safe, yeah, but not at the cost of her being miserable and Karin would be miserable if she had to sit around writing haiku all day. So maybe an office job was a good compromise. 

"You'd be proud of her, mom. Her and Yuzu." But probably not him. Definitely not him.

He ploughed on. "I'm doing okay. The appointment was made official, so as of today I'm joint third seat of the 6th. Everyone knows it's just temporary. Once Renji gets a promotion, I'll move up, take his place." In the division. His place in Byakuya's bed was not up for grabs. Which Ichigo was totally good with. Of all the fucked-up-ness in his life, the thing between the three of them was the least fucked-up of all. 

"I'm training hard." Learning to tag-team with Renji on the battlefield as well as the bedroom so he could be back-up for when Renji took his stab at one of the captains. It turned out those battles didn't have to be one on one and most young lieutenants took a friend or two with them when they made their move. Ichigo didn't plan on leaving the 6th afterwards but that didn't mean he wasn't ready to help out. 

In some ways he was looking forward to it. Renji deserved to have a decent shot; he was a good guy and a fuck of a lot more sane than some of the captains. Still there was a part of Ichigo, the bit that a month ago went to High School and watched TV, that kept asking him what the hell he was thinking, planning to murder another person in cold blood.

That was the bit he thought his mom would probably want him to listen to. 

But he couldn't. He couldn't look back. Even if, some days, he missed his friends so much that it hurt. Renji'd offered to take him back to see them; Tatsuki, Keigo, Mizuiro; but what was the point. They wouldn't be able to see him and anyway if someone in Seireitei got wind of him still having connections, it'd just put them in the firing line. Ichigo didn't want to bring the shinigami down on anyone else's head, not if he could stop it happening. 

Sometimes protecting someone you cared about meant walking away without saying goodbye.

"So yeah, working hard, getting along. There's not much more to tell..." And most of that she didn't need to know. 

His hand fell to Zangetsu, lying at his side and back in shikkai because that was how the old man felt most comfortable. He'd been talking about some new thing they needed to train for, some ability that'd give Ichigo the advantage in distance attacks, which would be cool. Ichigo was fed up chasing Renji around the training ground trying to avoid Zabimaru's teeth. 

And after that, bankai. A decade or two, maybe more. And then...

Ichigo clenched his jaw and stared up at the scudding clouds.

Then he would rescue his family and walk away from this freaking madhouse. Or tear it down and make it somewhere worth living. He didn't know if either dream was possible, but he was gonna give it a go. That, or die trying.

"You up here planning world domination again?" 

Ichigo took a deep breath, dragged his head back to the ground, and glared up at the figure balancing on the ridge tiles. "Why, you want in?"

"Dunno," Renji said, sliding carefully down the roof and hunkering down next him. "Does it come with more days off. I could use more days off." He yawned and rubbed the heel of his hand into one eye. "Good idea coming out here though. I might stay. It might keep me awake."

"You want to swap watches for a few nights?" Ichigo always asked, Renji always said no. 

"Nah, I'm good," came the predicted answer. And Ichigo knew why. The truth was, Renji liked falling asleep with Byakuya and if he took first watch, he couldn't do that. It was sweet and cute which, in Ichigo's opinion, made it totally fair game.

"Sap," Ichigo smirked, starting to enjoy himself.

Even in the moonlight he could see the colour flush Renji's cheeks. "Jerk."

"You brought him flowers." 

Renji bristled. "Those were supplies for the kitchens!"

Ichigo laid back on the roof, tucked his arms under his head, and pulled out the big guns. "Just admit it, Abarai, you're a closet romantic. If he asked you out on a date, you'd giggle like a little girl."

"Fuck off!" 

Ichigo blocked the fist heading for his head, curled round the foot aimed at his ribs, and lunged for Renji's knees. It might have gone further if the peaceful night hadn't been shattered by the harsh clatter of the 6th division alarms.

They both froze and looked up, listening intently to the message. Menos incursion in the Living World.

"Shit!" Cursing, Renji shook off Ichigo's grip and headed for the tree. 

Ichigo was on his feet and moving as fast as Renji but, as he got to the corner of the roof he paused.

"You coming?" Renji called from the ground.

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute." When Renji vanished inside the building, Ichigo took a step to follow him before hesitating again and turning to look back at the white tower looming over all of Seireitei. Below it, almost further down than than Ichigo could imagine, and locked away for longer than that, was his dad. 

Ichigo clenched his fist around Zangetsu's hilt. "I still don't know what the hell you did, and I haven't forgiven you for not telling us they might come, but..." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, lifting his eyes to that strange alien moon. "Just to let you know, dad. I don't know how I'm gonna do it or how long it'll take, but I haven't forgotten you. 

"Someday soon, I promise, I'm coming to save you."


End file.
